In Shadow's Light
by Ironsides
Summary: Ares Snow returns in the sequel to "The Hunted." When a surprise attack by an old enemy strikes the United Districts of Panem, the whole world becomes threatened by war. The second novel in the Ares Snow Trilogy.
1. Chapter 1

Three bombs rocked the Capitol almost simultaneously. Somehow, Ohm found a way to stream the audio directly to my communicuff. I heard the blasts, the screams in the street as tons of brick, mortar, and steel collapsed, and the terror that followed. It chilled me to the core. Then, the transmission abruptly cut off, and again he was gone, leaving no trace behind.

I jump into action, attempting first to contact the Ministry…but silence is my only answer. After almost ten minutes, I am able to reach Captain Amelia Flagg in Central Briefing. she sounds disoriented, but is physically alright. Luckily for her, Central Briefing's bunker-like construction deep underneath street level is what saved it. The ground floors and above were a total loss.

"Amelia, stay on the line, talk to me!"

"Sir," she says coughing through thick smoke and dust. "We're alright, but we're trapped. Emergency power is holding, but we barely have comms…"

"Have you managed to get into contact with anybody else?"

"Yes," she still says hacking on the barely breathable air. "First Responders are on street level and working to put out the fires. We're spinning up the Quick Reaction Force to lock down the Capital. Also, District Governments have been put on alert."

"Have we been able to ID the other targets yet?" There is a pause.

"Affirmative…" she hesitates.

"Well, what are they?" I say starting to lose my cool a little.

"The Presidential Mansion's been hit as well. Heavy Damage to the building's exterior, unknown numbers of dead at this time." I panic as I think Ohm might have actually dealt a more crippling blow to Panem than I thought.

"What about the President? Is she alive?"

"Yes, Sir. We've already been able to reach her. She was at an early morning meeting at the Ministry of Commerce."

"Thank the Lord. What about the third target? Is it the Legislative building?"

"No Sir…" she hesitates again.

"Dammit Amelia, talk to me."

"It's an apartment building in the Residential Sector….it was totally destroyed. Early reports indicate heavy casualties…."

"What's the address?"

"45th and Forum Avenue." I drop to my knees and bury my head in my hands. That address was completely benign: nothing significant about it at all. The staggering loss of civilian life was pointless…I should know considering _I live there._

"It's my fault…." I whisper as I imagine all the faces of friends and neighbors I will never see again.

"Sir!" Amelia screams through the communicuff. "Sir, we're losing you!"

"Just hold on, Amelia I'll be there in less than four hours. Spin up the President and the Defense Council!"

"Yes Sir! We'll be ready for…." Her transmission dissipates into static.

Immediately, I make contact with Fort Boggs in District 13. They had already been briefed on what has happened and agree to send a hovercraft to pick me up and deliver me directly to the Capitol.

"Ares?" I hear Lizzy's voice coming toward the forest. "We're holding lunch for you. Why are you back here..." she freezes as soon as she sees my pale, somber face. "Oh my God, it's him isn't it?"

"He hit us, Lizzy. He hit us hard…" I spend the next few minutes telling her of Ohm's cryptic message, the loss of our home, and so many innocent lives. She begins to cry, but does her best to keep herself together. We run back to the house where Katniss and Peeta meet us on the back porch. They've been through enough in their lives to feel when something is horribly wrong. Repeating the news for a second time is even harder than the first.

"Go," Peeta says immediately. "We'll take care of Lizzy and Octavian for as long as you need…" I remember why I love them so much because I know he means it, and the way he trails off at the end lets me know he'll take care of them forever…if that's what I need.

"Thank You," I say with genuine adoration. Peeta just nods back.

"You're welcome."

The hovercraft screams in from the east, makes a quick circle and then lands in the backyard throwing up a cloud of dirt and flying grass. The roar of noise and vibration wakes Octavian and he begins screaming. Lizzy's does her best to comfort him, I think because she feels it will make me feel better, considering it could be the last time I ever see them.

"It's alright," I yell over the sound of the hovercraft. "I love you so much!" I say before tasting her wonderful lips one final time. Octavian is still crying, but I kiss him on his little forehead and whisper, "I love you too, Little Man." I run out onto the back porch. Peeta and Katniss are there to meet me.

He hands me a plastic container filled with food. I try to refuse at first, but he insists.

"I know you feel like throwing up right now, but you need to eat. Keep your strength up because you'll need it…if not for you, then for them! Trust us, we know." he says pointing back to the house. He's right. I accept it graciously after his explanation. "Good Luck." He reaches over and shakes my hand. I turn to Katniss. Her face may be older, but it is the same one that comforted me through so many dark times in my childhood. I'm glad she's here now because I still need her to be. She gently grabs my shoulders and places a gentle peck on my cheek. Before she retreats, she whispers something to me.

"I'll be your Mockingjay right now, but remember what I said. You can do it." She steps back and Peeta wraps his arm around her.

"Please, just keep them safe," I say a little more desperately than I wish.

"Focus on the task at hand now, Soldier. They'll be waiting for you when you get back," Katniss says with a smile.

"Thank you again, both of you."

"Just go! That damn thing is tearing up my grass!" Katniss actually gets me to laugh as I run to the hovercraft and climb aboard. The pilot guns the throttle and lifts us to the clouds before screaming towards the western sky.

I had asked for a uniform to be waiting for me onboard. Luckily, the crew remembered my request because I did not want to try to make my way into the remains of the Ministry wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and a pair of running shoes. As I change, I check the displays for the latest updates coming out of the Capitol. The Death toll is high, but beginning to stabilize. As callous as it sounds, we actually were pretty lucky. Things could have been a lot worse.

The flight will be another two hours till we reach our destination, and I decide to force myself to open Peeta's supplies. Luckily, as the still warm scent of fresh rolls and grilled venison tenderloin hits my nostrils, I don't have to force myself very hard. I am indeed thankful my impromptu meal because in all the shock of the day, I forgot how starving I was. The lesson I learned in _Tracks_ last year seems to have faded.

I begin to think why Ohm would have chosen those particular targets. He knew that the most vital parts of the Ministry were shielded below ground, he probably knew that President Holmes would not be at home when the explosion destroyed the mansion, and he definitely knew that I was not home considering he was talking to me as he had his finger on the detonator.

_"No, this attack wasn't meant to do any real damage. It was a message that he still can hit us wherever or whenever he wants."_

Tragically, this thought leads me to an even more terrifying realization.

_"If this wasn't the real attack…that means something even worse is coming…"_

No, now is not the time for fear. I can't let it get in the way. I'm about to head into a disaster zone, and the people need their leadership to be providing the example. Ohm is a terrorist: he wants me panicked so I fail to see his next move. Just like last year in the jungle…_I refuse to let him win…again. _

I reach down into my pocket, and pull out the gift that Katniss gave me. I curse silently as I realize that I never had the chance to thank her, not only for the generosity of bestowing on me such a precious icon, but also for the incredible faith that she has placed in me. I hope that I am worthy. At least we won't have to wait long to find out.

I hold the pin in my fingers. Its simple golden surface reflects the dim lights of the hovercraft cabin. I never could quite get over the feeling of finally seeing something in person that you have marveled at in pictures and video your entire life. It is as if something from the realm of your fantasies instantly becomes hard reality, sometimes for the worse, but thankfully most of the time for the better. It's like faith is instantly confirmed and rewarded at the same time.

_"Do I even to deserve to become the Mockingjay?"_ Katniss certainly thought so.

_"Well, at the very least, this thing seemed to bring her a lot of luck. Might as well see if it has any left to give…"_

Considering they were unable to get me a nametag on such short notice, the pin serves a dual purpose as I carefully attach it to my shirt. I have indeed, become the Mockingjay.

Just under two hours later, the pilot's voice comes over the intercom.

"Sir, we've just cleared the outer mountains and are approaching the Capitol." I run up to the cockpit and stare out the view screen. I have seen the Capitol Skyline thousands of times before, but never like this. Three huge billowing clouds of smoke still rise from the sites of the attack. The Ministry and Presidential Mansion are both in the Government District. The third cloud, dozens of blocks away, seems so out of place. I'm afraid it won't be long before people start putting two and two together. "Where do you want to land, Sir?" The pilot asks.

"Get me as close to the Ministry as you can."

'Yes, Sir."

"The pilot certainly does his job. Despite the hundreds of rescue personnel and heavy equipment on the ground among the scorched ruins, he manages to get us less than a block from the front entrance. I run towards the wreckage as the smell of smoke and charred flesh still hangs nauseatingly in the air. The façade is gone: the happy murals of the 12 districts lie in thousands of broken pieces among the blackened, twisted metal and shattered glass. I walk to where the front lobby once stood and find two familiar faces standing on the empty pedestal: President Holmes and General Sturm. Both are alive and unharmed, and doing what they can to reach the trapped personnel in Central Briefing.

"Good to see you're alright, Madame President." I say with relief.

"The same to you, Colonel," she replies graciously.

"What the hell is that thing on your uniform, Snow?" General Sturm yells pointing at the Mockingjay pin. Even though I would call us friends now, he certainly has a funny way of showing it.

"Sir, I'll explain later when there's more time. Have we been able to reach them at all?"

"Intermittently. Back-up power is stable, but it will be at least two more hours before we can get regular levels of electricity down there and restore full comms."

The primary elevator shaft down to Central Briefing was destroyed in the blast, but the Rescuers have managed to dig a new shaft directly down towards the hallway. As they break through the last layer of concrete and rock, the rush of stale air rising from the three hundred foot deep hole is intense. Quickly, a mining elevator is jury-rigged and Holmes, Sturm, myself, and a few others make the decent down into the darkness.

"Madame President, you really shouldn't be down here yet," I say trying to convince her.

"We don't know for sure it's safe."

"If it's safe enough for you, Colonel Snow, than it's damn well safe enough for me. I was helping to install three ton wheel assemblies under bullet trains before you were born!"

"Yes, Ma'am," I can't help saying without a smile. We drop into the hallway. It is illuminated only by red, flickering emergency lighting. I pull out a flashlight and begin walking toward the doors at the end. The damage down here is very light; remarkable considering the amount of explosives used up top. Initial estimates put the bomb that did this somewhere at around half a ton crammed into the back of a delivery van.

We reach the doors to Central Briefing.

"Magnetic Safeties have tripped," I say examining the control panel. "They're designed to hermetically seal the room in the event of a chemical attack."

"How do we disengage them?" Holmes asks curiously. I rip off the front of the control panel and begin to splice together a few wires.

"Like this," I say connecting the last two together. Instantly the doors slide open and we are confronted with a healthy, but very exasperated Captain Amelia Flagg.

"WHAT THE HELL TOOK YOU SO LONG?...Sir."


	2. Chapter 2

After four very difficult hours, we manage to restore full power to Central Briefing. Slowly, the feeds begin pouring in from all over the country again. Almost all the messages are simply frantic requests for updates from the Capitol which the analysts begin to answer one by one.

President Holmes, General Sturm, Amelia, and I are soon joined by the Interim Chief of Special Defense.

"What is he doing here?" I ask as he stumbles into the room, knocking dust from his expensive District 1 suit. I never did like him much before I knew his name. Now, after finding out the truth about who he is, I hate him for one simple reason: Octavian will never be able to meet his Aunt Primrose.

"I've asked him to come from District 2 because I think as result of these attacks, it is necessary for Panem to have a complete Defensive Committee in place which is why I'd like to offer Mr. Hawthorne here the permanent position of Chief.

"Why Madam President," he says with a futile attempt to cover up his District 12 accent. "I would be honored."

_"Mr. Gale Hawthorne, Great, I'd almost rather have Ohm back." _ When he first arrived at the Ministry not long after Rikard had deprived us of his lovely company, He automatically set me on edge with his politician's demeanor: never ceasing need to put on a show for everybody around him. It was almost like he was trying his hardest to keep something a secret. I like to pay attention to little details about people. It is usually those that tell you the most. He always wore the most expensive clothing he could find, drove a car that cost more than most people's houses, and he spent so much time in a salon having his hair and face groomed that I wondered if his reputation of enjoying the company of so many different ladies may be just a cover. But, then I saw his hands: rough, weathered, and abused. They were not the hands of a playboy, but the hands of someone who once lived by physical hardship and back-breaking labor. I then understood at least one of the things this man was hiding under _a lot_ of money: he grew up starving and destitute. I knew I had seen his dark hair and olive face somewhere before, but it was not until President Holmes introduced him, that I realized he was Katniss' "cousin" from the Seventy-Fourth games. Luckily for me, Lizzy was able to fill me in on the full story before I stupidly uttered something to Peeta and Katniss about my new co-worker. The two of us have since agreed that we will keep it a secret as long as possible since both of them seem to be doing so well _not_ thinking about him. Unfortunately, it will be a little harder at this point considering that he's now apparently going to be around awhile.

Besides the obvious, the other reason I can't stand the man is he seems to be the only person left in the Ministry these days that has not been able to get past my last name. Even though Lizzy has told me how hard things were for him, I don't really care. Somehow, I've managed to start using the word "Snow" as a way to avoid his company rather than any kind of personal shame or humiliation on my part. Call it a "step in the right direction" for me.

How Gale Hawthorne rose to the meteoric heights of the Panem Defense Industry is a story that I've been able to piece together from other sources, mostly owing to the fact I try to converse with him as little as possible. Of course, the tale begins right at the end of the Revolution. After being spurned by Katniss for the reason that Lizzy almost refused to tell me for fear that I would kill him (I _almost _did actually), Gale took a job as a Defense Industries Supervisor at the former Ohm Defense Works adjacent to "the Nut." Using his connections gained while fighting for the Rebels, Gale was soon one of the Board of Directors. However, despite his keen business sense and killer instincts, he still found himself unable to break to the top. It was not until he heard of Ohm's resurfacing with the design for the Reevox that he was able to put a plan into action. Backing Ohm's research with his own money, Ohm and Gale were able to make a fortune off the Reevox, mostly by Gale using his connections to negotiate a contract with the Ministry of Health for a guaranteed order of half a million units for Avox relief.

_"How Noble…"_

Using their new wealth, the two of them bought controlling shares of Ohm Defense, placing Rikard back as the public figurehead and Chief Designer, while Gale stayed on as Chief Financial Officer. Apparently, designing new weapons became just a hobby to him after that, until now, of course.

So, as he sits in the war room of Central Briefing, helping us to come up with a battle plan to find and destroy the man who made him rich, I have serious doubts about his sincerity.

"Are we sure that it was Rikard Ohm at all?" He says innocently.

"I'M PRETTY SURE!" I yell across the table to silence him. "The communicuff transmission I received just before the bombs went off was a pretty good hint."

For the first time, Gale actually looks in my direction and sees the Mockingjay pin on my uniform, now proudly displayed over the name "Snow" etched into a nametag I was able to salvage from my office on the level above. His eyes grow wide with suppressed rage as he instantly recognizes the pin of the one woman he was never able to have. I have to admit, this just is icing on the cake for me.

"Colonel Snow," he says deliberately trying to hide the fact that he's seething, "I was merely trying to ask if we have been able to _authenticate_ the transmission you received."

"Captain Flagg?" I say turning towards Amelia.

"Well, the message structure was nearly identical to the communicuff message you received last year from him, and the voice print was a spot on match….for his Reevox collar."

"Which could have been copied on one of thousands of collars that Ohm industries has produced!"

"Why are you trying to defend him so much?" I ask sternly.

"That is a valid question, Mr. Hawthorne," General Sturm adds.

"Ohm is dead, I'm sure of it!" he shouts across the table to us both.

"And your opinion has nothing to do with the fact that you inherit Ohm's shares in the Company and his job here if he's dead…" I say rather tactlessly.

"That's enough, Colonel Snow. Please continue Mr. Hawthorne."

"_Ah, Driva,"_ I think. _"Always the referee, even if it doesn't suit you." _

"It just doesn't make sense to me that he could have been so wounded on the island last year and still survived long enough to plan and execute this incredibly intricate bombing attack…"

"Unless he had help," I say bluntly.

"That is the question, isn't it?" President Holmes declares just before her communicuff beeps. She presses the button and exchanges a few phrases with the speaker on the other end. "General," she says to Sturm, "It's the Speaker of the Legislature. He wants us to update him with the latest information we have." She turns to the rest of us. "Captain Flagg, we'll need your notes," she turns back to me and Gale, "If you gentlemen will excuse us for a few minutes."

"Of course, Madam President," he says with his sycophantic wine.

_"God, I hate him." _I don't want to be alone with him at the table, so I head to the kitchenette at the far side of the Central Briefing. _"Oh, if the bombs destroyed the coffee maker, then I'll be really pissed off, Rikard."_ Thankfully, the machine is intact and after a few seconds of fumbling, I'm able to get it brewing. Shortly before I'm about to enjoy the first of many steaming cups, a hand grabs my shoulder and spins me around. Gale grabs my collars and puts his face down in mine.

"How do you know Katniss Everdeen, _Snow_?" I am definitely not in the mood for this; especially the way he said "Snow" like he was speaking to some kind of dog. I grab his right wrist, twist in just the right way, and send him down to his knees writhing in pain.

"I think you mean Katniss _Mellark_, Hawthorne. Don't worry, I made that same mistake too when I first met her." He is still immobilized, his face twisted in agony. "She actually happens to be a good friend of my wife and me. We were actually enjoying the Mellark's fine hospitality when this little show of your previous employer kicked off. Man, Peeta can sure grill some venison. Do you remember the taste of venison from District 12 or has it faded after years of eating prime District 10 steak every night?"

"Let me go, Snow!"

"Ok, but here's your one warning: touch me again, and you won't get your hand back. Understand?" He manages a nod and I throw away his arm like it was rubbish.

He doesn't bother getting to his feet.

"Have you told Katniss about us working together?"

"No," I say shaking my head. "The topic of you hasn't really come up a lot," I say sarcastically.

"Well, has she at least told you about how I saved Annie's life when she was trapped in a Capitol Prison?"

"No, but Lizzy has, and I am grateful to you for that, but she also mentioned one more thing that kinda gets in the way…"

"And what is that?" he spits back at angrily.

"Lizzy also told me what really happened to Katniss' little sister, Prim…" That struck a nerve. Gale sinks down onto the linoleum as I grab a hot cup from the coffeemaker and head back to Central Briefing.

"Where have you been, Colonel?" President Holmes asks. She, Sturm, and Amelia have all returned to the table.

"Just grabbing a cup of coffee, Madame President. Is this a new brand? Tastes _delicious_," I say taking a slow sip on my mug. Gale stumbles out of the kitchenette in a daze holding his wrist. He collapses back into his seat and stares off into space.

"I'm not sure, Colonel Snow….." Holmes says staring at me suspiciously. "But I'm afraid we have more important things to worry about right now than how your coffee tastes."

"Of course, let's get back to business."

At that moment the incoming transmission alarm sounds. Another junior analyst comes running over and hands Amelia a sheet of paper.

"This isn't possible."

"What is it, Captain Flagg," Sturm asks.

"We're receiving a live broadcast over….the L-Band Network."

"But the L-Band is only used by the…." President Holmes doesn't have the chance to finish her sentence before an image appears from the static on the large screen behind us.

"Well, Mr. Hawthorne," Holmes says to Gale who is still looking down at the table in a daze. "Looks like your theory about Rikard Ohm being dead was incorrect."

"Why do you say that, Madame President?" he asks.

"Because there he is behind you…" I say trailing off. Gale turns around to see the forty foot tall image of Rikard Ohm towering above him. Ohm is dressed in a new white jumpsuit, his hair is neatly combed, and a shiny new chrome Reevox collar adorns his neck. I look over and see his entire right arm has been replaced by a white plastic prosthetic.

_"Well, Rikard, looks like you've come a little bit closer to being one of your beloved machines…"_

The camera pans back, revealing that Ohm is standing on a polished, white marble balcony overlooking a square filled with thousands of people, dressed in similar white jumpsuits. To our horror, everyone in Central Briefing now knows exactly where Ohm has been hiding the last year…and who his new friends apparently are.

His new artificial voice begins to speak into a microphone, blasting his words both to the crowd below and across the ocean to us here.

"Good morning to you all hear with me, and Good evening to the People of Panem watching on their televisions."

"What?" Presidents Holmes exclaims.

"I'm sorry, Madam President," Amelia says sadly. "His carrier wave is taking over the national broadcast network, we're trying to push him out, but right now there's nothing we can do."

Ohm continues.

"I'm speaking to you live from Germania, Capitol of the Trans-European Commonwealth…"


	3. Chapter 3

What was once called "Europe" was annihilated by the global war three hundred years ago. The Trans-European Commonwealth's, or TEC's, history is vague (like all history from those ages) but barring the official propaganda narrative that the TEC espouses, these are the known facts.

Europe was once composed of independent nation-states, each with their own language, religion, and ideology. The threat of war was constant and due to the continent's relatively advanced technology and desire for conquest, the world was often brought to the brink of destruction by its whims. However, starting about five-hundred years ago, Europe entered an era of relative peace. Though the threat of attack still existed from the rest of the world, Europe's own citizens seemed to enter a new age of cooperation of understanding…at least from the outside.

Two centuries of poor economic growth led to stagnation. Bitter power struggles erupted among the various elites of the nation states to who would be dominant on the continent. Constant shortages of fuel and food would result in riots among the lower classes that could last for weeks or months before being put down by government intervention. Finally, when the global war started (no one, not even us can really remember how), Europe along with the rest of the world burned like a cinder. Billions starved, died of disease, or perished in the violence.

While Panem turned North America back into a feudal collection of Districts, the chaos continued in Europe until the rise of a new order from the ashes. They were known simply as the "Lawgivers:" harsh, unyielding totalitarians who were convinced the only way to restore the vitality of the continent was to crush all forms of individualism and subordinate the people of Europe into service of their will. One by one, the warring remains of the nation states were conquered with sheer force and overwhelming firepower. Millions more perished in what is known in the official TEC narrative as the _"Century of Pain"_ until finally only one place lay beyond the grasp of the Lawgivers: the island of Britannia. The natives there had devolved into a collection of tribes themselves, but were still bound by an ancient belief that no outside power would ever lay claim to their islands.

The TEC only tried to invade once. As soon as their troops set foot on British soil, they were met by an ungodly wave of guerilla tactics and suicidal tenacity that forced them back into the seas. Since that costly mistake, the TEC has decided that for the most part Britannia is a nuisance more suitable for use as a propaganda tool for consolidating their power by distracting TEC citizens from other problems back on the continent: the classic red herring, only applied to geopolitics. It was thought by the Lawgivers that with the establishment of a total air and naval blockade, Britain would collapse in a matter of decades. The Lawgivers were wrong. The British tribes established an advanced air defense network of guns, rockets, and missiles to keep their islands safe from outside forces while letting the rest of their citizenry devolve back into a self-sustaining agrarian society.

Back on the mainland, however, the Lawgivers were forcibly changing the very fabric of their own society. Food became simple nourishment to the body, not something to be savored. It was produced by a massive new network of underground hydroponic gardens as a commodity available to all, enjoyed by none. Science excelled in the development of new tools of control. Advanced nuclear reactors began producing energy that became free to all levels of society, but not for health or comfort, but to ensure that every domicile could be equipped with reliable and steady listening devices. Medical care was provided at no cost to all citizens, not because of any kind of moral imperative, but due to the loss of millions in the wars, every single worker was needed in the best possible condition to produce more for less.

Uniformity and absolute loyalty to the Supreme Lawgiver became the religion. Any dissent against the government or its policies was weeded out. Every day at noon, the public would be required to watch the live broadcasts of criminals and political dissidents being tortured to death in the most ghastly ways without any kind of mercy. The old cities and capitals of the nation states were dynamited and bulldozed flat. No thought was given to any kind of aesthetics or historical significance. Art and Culture that had existed undisturbed for almost 4000 years was turned to ash in a matter of years. In the places of the old cities, rose endless towers of steel, glass, chrome and polished stone. Every street, alley, building, and indeed every room was equipped with optical and audio sensor nets. Privacy according to the "Lawgivers" was "an obsolete and archaic concept of the decadent past." To even_ think_ against the rulers of the TEC was deemed a crime worthy of absolute punishment.

For ease of command and control, the site of the ancient city known as "Berlin" in the center of the continent was chosen for a new capital city where the principles of the Lawgivers would be enforced to an even higher degree. This new metropolis called, "Germania," was the pulpit from which the gospel of subordination was preached and enforced, but not by spectacle as it was in Panem, but by pure and simple draconian punishment. Among the modern state of the art architecture, one ancient symbol of eternal power and strength was erected: a polished marble pyramid one hundred stories tall known simply as "The Heart." It was built in the very center of Germania to act as the complete seat of government. Everything from Defense to Interior Security, Agriculture, Economics, and Education rested within its sloping walls and the structure was consequently created to be absolutely impenetrable: a symbol of utter dominance for eternity. For the brainwashed citizens of TEC, this pyramid was the very center of the world, and it is from the balcony of "The Heart" that Ohm addresses the screaming crowd.

"My friends and fellow disciples of the Lawgivers…" Ohm says in his artificial voice.

"That son of a bit…" General Sturm growls.

"Well, I guess this _officially_ makes him a traitor…" President Holmes mutters to herself.

"With all due respect, Ma'am, I think he was a traitor a long time before this." I quickly add. I hear some words come from Gale to my right that I cannot quite make out. I can't be sure, but I swear he said, _"To some…"_

Ohm continues his speech to the adoring crowd.

"I was a slave to the barbarians of Panem! They do not understand the importance of equality, justice, or service under the law. Instead, they are a decadent and morally devoid nation, completely obsessed now with the disgusting perversions of 'Personal Liberty' and 'Democracy.'" He raises his artificial arm in the air, and grabs his Reevox collar with the other. "Even though I have been mutilated and abused by their worst war criminal, Colonel Ares Snow, a puppet of the idiotic and corrupt President of Panem, Driva Holmes…"

"Guess he won't be voting for you come next election, Madam President…"

"Not now, Colonel Snow!"

"…my resolve to triumph for the good of the world has never been stronger!" The crowd begins to chant their support even louder. "So, I now come to the people of the Trans-European Commonwealth as a brother in arms, for I have learned information that proves that the animals across the ocean are your enemies! In my misguided service to the United Districts of Panem, I learned the horrible truth that they are conspiring with the savages of Britannia against you!" The crowd gasps as if he just uttered a vulgar curse. "They would like nothing better than to see the bloodthirsty British storm across the Channel and lay waste to everything that you have worked so hard to build. The people of Panem are truly the wicked! They want to enslave you and take the Supreme Leader's lands as their own! With your help, we can end this threat to the stability of the world and bring order and justice to all under the guidance and wisdom of the TEC!" The crowd continues to scream their support. "Now, I give to you The Man among Men, the Guardian of Righteous Virtue, The Supreme Lawgiver, Pierre Grosfrere!" The crowd now becomes uncontrollable. People are actually weeping in joy as the cameras pan across their faces for a long propaganda shot. It is impossible to know any more if these citizens cry because they feel a genuine love for a man who has developed an airtight cult of personality around him, or they just fear the repercussions if they don't put on a convincing show. Maybe they don't even remember the difference…

Pierre Grosfrere is only in his thirties, relatively young for such a powerful autocrat. He rose to power in the Lawgivers by the same tactic that so many evil men before him have used, being more ruthless and bloodthirsty than all his competitors combined. He walks out onto the balcony with Ohm who steps aside and bows penitently.

_"How ironic, Rikard, you've gone and sold yourself to be another dictator's slave. Be careful though, you're running out of body parts for your master to cut off…"_

The camera briefly focuses on Grosfrere's face. His skin is pale white, much like Ohm's, but his strong features, piercing eyes, and jet black hair stand in stark contrast to Ohm's gaunt face. The shot then pans back out for the actual speech revealing the massive paintings of the previous Supreme Lawgivers that hang on either side of the balcony. It seems these poor people cannot escape their old master's faces even after they're dead and gone.

Grosfrere lets the crowd continue to go wild for a few more seconds before simply raising his arm in one fluid motion. Instantly, the crowd grows completely silent. Not even children make a sound. It is bone-chilling how disciplined, trained, and subordinated the citizens of TEC are.

"My loyal followers," Grosfrere begins in a nasal accent that I find repugnant. "Today, begins another glorious chapter in the saga of the Trans-European Commonwealth. Thanks to the diligence and dedication of our new comrade, Rikard Ohm, we have learned of the treachery of the heathens of Panem. If they support the savages who continue to refuse to accept the one true order, than they must be destroyed as well. We will force them to their knees in defeat and seize the many resources that they unfairly hoard as their own."

"This does not sound good," Sturm mutters. I nod in agreement.

"Less than twelve hours ago, a bombing attack organized by Comrade Ohm in the Capitol of the UDP, sent their leadership and Defensive Networks into disarray." Everyone at the table with me perks up.

"This has given our brave expeditionary forces enough time to get into position. I am pleased to report that four divisions of TEC forces now stand poised to take the fight directly to the shores of the enemy!"

"WHAT!" President Holmes shouts. All of us jump to our feet as suddenly all the early warning alarms in Central Briefing sound in unison.

Grosfrere holds his arms crossed above his head in the TEC victory sign.

"UNUS EUROPA!" he screams to the crowd which has begun screaming his name in unison. Instantly, the thousands below, probably joined by millions more watching on their televisions around the TEC, raise their arms into the same symbol and respond:

"SUB UNUS RECTOR!"

_"One Europe….under one leader."_

The analysts in Central Briefing are now running frantically trying to get reports. Grosfrere was not exaggerating. It appears that Ohm's attack was indeed the perfect distraction. While we were on alert looking inward, the TEC forces were slipping toward Panem from the outside. By the time the early warning beacons detected the enemy in our airspace, it was too late.

_The invasion of Panem has begun._


	4. Chapter 4

My first worry is for Lizzy and Octavian in District 12.

"Where are they landing?" I scream to Amelia as she desperately punches a keyboard. The holographic globe above the conference table transforms into a three-dimensional map of Panem. Red dots representing enemy units begin to cluster in specific locations around the country.

"This doesn't make any sense," she says confused. "They're already flying inland from the coasts and taking heavy casualties from our air defenses. TEC forces seem to be concentrating in only four districts."

"Which ones?" General Sturm asks.

"3, 6, 13….and 2."

Those districts don't even border each other! Why would they be starting their invasion there?" President Holmes says. "Those divisions will be immediately cut off and isolated."

"Because, TEC wants to cripple our ability to make war. Think about it: Three is Industry, 6 is Transportation, 13 is…well, obvious, and 2 is the home to Ohm's former factory. We lose those districts, and we become combat ineffective," I say pensively.

"Then we won't lose those districts!" Sturm shouts.

"Now hold on, just one second," Gale interrupts. "What exactly is your plan there, ladies and gentlemen? Like you said, we lose those districts and we're completely combat ineffective. So, you want us to ride rough shot in there like the cavalry and pulverize everything? How do you know that's not the TEC's whole plan? We destroy our own infrastructure and then all they have to do is wait a few months for us to starve and steam-roll us!"

"Again," I say, "this has nothing to do with the fact that the precious factory you just inherited is in District 2, does it?"

"Of course not, Colonel! As Chief of Special Defense, I'm merely concerned with the long term viability of our Military Industrial Complex."

"Right, that's gotta be it," I reply sarcastically.

"Are you sure you're the same Gale Hawthorne that I fought with all those years ago? Full of piss and vinegar ready to do whatever it took to win?" General Sturm asks like a disappointed old friend.

"No, I'm not, Wade," Gale says sternly. "I've grown up and I was hoping that you had as well." General Sturm's face grows red, but he offers no other response. Gale continues, "It's not enough anymore to just destroy everything and then start over. We're past that, by _a long shot_. The TEC has had two hundred years to prepare for this fight. We haven't even had thirty years of peace since the last time we destroyed this country. We can't keep doing this and hope to survive. We've got to come up with some way to bring peace with honor." General Sturm explodes.

"A weapons designer who now is too afraid to go to war…that's rich. Right now, Brainwashed TEC zombies are getting ready to lay waste to District 2, my home and now yours as well! And the way you're talking, I don't think you give a damn! You _coward_!"

"Call me a coward if you want, General, but that does not change the fact that what you're suggesting will bring about the possible deaths of millions of innocents…"

"You build bombs, you hypocrite!" Sturm continues to his tirade, but Gale is unfazed.

"Just because I build bombs doesn't mean that I want them used indiscriminately. I've lived with the consequences of such stupidity before…." Out of the corner of my eye, I see Gale looking at the Mockingjay pin on my shirt. "I used to be willing to do anything to secure victory, General, but no longer. I lost everything that I ever wanted or cared about following that blind dogma, and I _refuse_ to make the same mistake again."

"Then, Mr. Hawthorne," President Holmes says resolutely, "perhaps the position of Chief of Special Defense is not for you…"

"Madame President, please…" I say interrupting. "As much as it pains me to agree with the cheesedick here…"

"cheesedick?" Gale yells at me insulted.

"Yes, cheesedick," I say without even looking at him. "It's a word, _look it up."_ General Sturm at this point is doing his best to hold in laughter, but the President does not look amused as I continue my point. "A full assault would be counterproductive at this juncture, but not because of any ridiculous notions of 'peace with honor.'"

"And why do you say that, Colonel Snow?" President Holmes replies.

"Because, Ma'am. They have Ohm with them now, which means he's trying to deceive us again just like last year. If your goal is to overrun, an entire country, why would attack with only four divisions? That's less than ten percent of total TEC forces. No, I know what Rikard is thinking. He believes we're so inexperienced and foolish that we'll fall for two deceptions in a row. So, while we're assembling all our forces for a massive counterassault, the TEC raiders will be accomplishing whatever is their _real_ mission, and then all our forces will be stagnant for days or maybe even weeks as they hunt the enemy down across the country unnecessarily. This whole thing is a trick, _that_ I'm sure of. It's what they're really doing that I can't figure out."

"Then what exactly is your suggestion, Colonel?" says President Holmes confused and_ definitely_ frustrated.

"Four strike teams, no more than fifty members a piece and each led by an experienced operative. They go in to the affected districts, knock the TEC forces off balance, and then figure out what the hell they're really doing. "

"When would these strike teams leave?" President Holmes asks. I look at the time on my communicuff.

"How long does it take to fuel four assault hovercrafts, draw weapons, and then you sign the order?"

"Captain Flagg," President Holmes says without looking away from me.

"Yes, Madam President."

"Make the preparations. The Assault teams go wheels up in one hour."

"Yes, Ma'am!" Amelia says running off toward the underground hangar.

"And who, Colonel Snow," President Holmes continues, "did you have in mind to lead these four teams?"

"I'll take District 6. I trained their extensively as a cadet and know the layout of the city."

"Take good care of it, please," she says with a worried voice. "Remember, that's my home."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"What about the other three?" I look at the digital roster of available personnel.

"Well, we have Lieutenant Colonel Marbury available. He has experience as a commander at Fort Boggs so he is familiar with 13. We also have Major Tacker: her husband is from District 3 and I know she travels there regularly."

"Alright, go with those two. Who do we have to lead the counter-assault on 2?"

"Easy," General Sturm interjects calmly. "_Me_." We are all taken by surprise by his desire to fight, but soon realize we shouldn't be.

"Actually, General," President Holmes asks tactfully, "I was hoping that you would remain here with me in Central Briefing to oversee command and control."

"Absolutely not, Ma'am," he says looking at her in the eye. "Like you said, it's my home and if it goes down, I want to make sure it's with a fight." We can see President Holmes turning the issue over and over again in her mind, but she finally comes to a decision we know is the right one.

"Very well, General Sturm, I think you've earned it."

"Are we actually considering this ridiculous plan?" Gale screams. "A platoon of fifty against a division of over a thousand? What possible good will this do besides waste lives and resources? If the TEC starts thinking we aren't even a viable threat, they'll just send even more forces and we'll really be against the ropes."

"On the contrary, Mr. Hawthorne," I say disdainfully. "After we've accomplished our missions, I think the TEC will see us as a _very_ viable threat, indeed."

Half an hour later, the raiders are all assembled in the main hangar in full combat gear. Amelia, as always, has performed flawlessly. She was able to assemble a two-hundred person strike force out of the ashes of the Ministry in less time than it takes most people to do the dishes after dinner.

General Sturm, Lieutenant Colonel Marbury, Major Tacker, and I look out at the faces that are locked, cocked, and ready to roll.

"Sir," I say gesturing to General Sturm, "the floor is yours to brief."

"Oh no, Colonel Snow," this is your plan and your show. "I'm just here to go out and pull some triggers."

"Roger that, Sir," I say with a smile. "Alright everybody, listen up!" I scream to get the crowd's attention. "You all should have been briefed the initial plan by your team leader already. They'll go over specific considerations and tactics for your individual districts in the air en route to the objective. No matter what happens, remember the key tasks: Disrupt the enemy formations, gather as much actionable intelligence as you can on the ground, and do your damndest to kick their asses back across the ocean where they belong!" A quick roar erupts from the raiders before a wave of my right arm silences them again.

"We're under attack, ladies and gentlemen. This is not just a drill. This is_ real_. Those brainwashed TEC zombies are landing in our country, within our borders, among our homes, friends, and family. Our parents fought for the freedom of this country just a generation ago! Their sacrifice will mean nothing, if we are not victorious today. We fail in this fight and we not only fail ourselves, we fail them, and we will also fail our children. I don't know about you, but I'm not gonna let that happen.

"Remember, if you get overwhelmed, fall back and call for reinforcements. Do not under any circumstances let them push you back out of the District. Maneuver if you have to, but keep your eyes on the enemy at all times. Team Leaders, let's mount up!" Instantly Marbury and Tacker order their soldiers onto their respective waiting hovercraft. Sturm walks up to me.

"'Our_ parents_ fought for the freedom of this country a generation ago?' You young whipper-snapping son of a…" he says with a chuckle as he holds out his hand.

"Hey, Sir, I'm just telling it like it is." I reach up and shake back.

"Just because I'm old doesn't mean I still can't kick your ass."

"Understood, Sir."

"Good luck, Ares, May the odds be ever in your favor."

"And to you as well, Sir." I pause. "If, I don't come back…." I pause to gather my words. "Please tell my family how much I loved them and make sure Lizzy and Octavian are taken care of."

"Of course, Colonel. I'd know you'd do the same for me."

With one last nod of understanding between us, he runs to join his soldiers. I turn toward my own ship, but am interrupted before I can board.

"Colonel Snow!" I recognize the voice.

_"Now? Really?"_ I turn around. "Yes, Mr. Hawthorne…" I immediately stop my condescending tone when I see the serious emotional turmoil on his face.

"Just tell me two things…." He says holding back tears.

"Alright."

"First….is she safe?"

"It's Katniss, Gale. Wherever she is, is the safest possible place. That's why I trusted her and Peeta with Lizzy and Octavian."

"Then you don't know Katniss like I do. I swear trouble finds her like a compass points north." We both manage a chuckle.

"What else did you want to know?" He swallows hard and glances off towards the ceiling. It's like he can't bear to look me in the face. Finally, he manages to choke out the words:

"Is….is she happy…with him?"

"What do you want me to say, Gale?"

"Just the truth." I don't hesitate.

"Yes, she's very happy with Peeta." A single tear is finally able to push its way down his face. He quickly wipes it away.

"Do they have children?"

"Yes, two. A girl and a boy." He shakes his head a few times.

"She told me….that she was never going to have children…with anyone."

He steps backward as if he's afraid to show his back to me, but finally turns and leaves.

For a few seconds, I actually feel some sympathy, but soon remember who I'm thinking about. I can't let a love-lorn arms-dealer cloud my judgment. I won't even let my own wife and child into my thoughts right now. If I really love them, I'll stay focused on the fight and come back to them alive and unharmed. I climb up the ramp and yell to the pilots:

"Let all the other team leaders know: Move, move now!"

The roar of the engines begins. The four assault ships, laden with their deadly cargo of men and materiel lift into the air. They clear the hangar doors and climb into the golden rays of the setting sun before racing to the four corners of Panem.


	5. Chapter 5

District 6 is an amazing dichotomy of opposites. Ninety percent of the land is pristine wilderness dotted with green verdant forest and sandy coastline. The other ten percent is industrial wasteland. The land of the District is divided between two peninsulas set among the five inland seas of Panem. The larger one in the south is shaped like a large mitten and borders the wind turbine covered plains of District 5. Most of the industry is here due to the access to 5's power grids and the direct harbor access to the southern inland sea. The northern peninsula is mostly wild timberland which juts out east from District 7. No one is really sure what lies to the north of the inland seas. Since the rise of Panem, this area has simply been known as "The Canada." Early pioneers attempting to claim that land for the Districts would return totally out of their minds, telling stories of monstrous beasts and fiercely territorial feral tribes of cannibals who roam primeval forests and frozen wastelands, kill outsiders on sight, and eat the bodies of their conquered enemies with maple syrup. We chalked these tales mostly to ghost stories. The sad truth is that there are simply not enough people left in North America after all the wars and famines to settle the massive unknown frontier.

What we do know of District 6 before the wars was that it was already a hub of transportation half a millennia ago. Ancestors of the current residents even built a canal connecting the inland seas of Panem to the Atlantic Ocean. After the great wars destroyed what was left of the ancient settlements, the government of Panem moved in and forced the inhabitants to create a new city of factories and use their ancient knowledge to build everything from cars, to trains, hovercraft, and even war machines. The Panem tank arsenal, the only major military factory located outside of Districts 2 and 3 was constructed adjacent to Fort Henry Ford (a large maneuver complex named after some long forgotten native hero of District 6 that only they remember). During the Revolution, the seizure of the largely intact arsenal by the rebels was a major blow to the Capitol and a giant step towards victory. It was here that I spent many years of my youth training in the art of armored warfare, learning to maneuver tanks and armored personnel carriers through rough terrain, thick forest, and the abandoned ruins of an ancient city that the locals called, "Detroyte."

About an hour out from our target, I click on the intelligence terminal in the hovercraft and get the latest reports on the battlefield from the Capitol and what is left of Fort Henry Ford. TEC forces attacking 6 had a distinct advantage over the other enemy divisions in that they flew their hovercraft over "the Canada" and arrived mostly intact. However, I don't think they were expecting such heavy resistance from the armored forces of Fort Henry Ford which have pushed the invaders off the open ground and into the actual city of District 6. Here among the skyscrapers and civilians, the effectiveness of the tanks has been largely neutralized by the TEC's use of anti-armor rockets and the danger of killing our own people still taking cover within the city. I patch in a link to Central Briefing to speak with President Holmes. She grew up here, survived the Revolution here, and hopefully has some good ideas of how to fight this fight.

"Are you seeing this, Ma'am?" I ask over the video link.

"Yes, Colonel. We were just able to speak with Lieutenant Colonel LaSalle, Commander of Fort Henry Ford. He's on the front line and is expecting your arrival. He's ringed the city with tanks and trapped the TECs inside, but is having to press the attack with ground forces because we've ordered him not to use heavy armor where it risks harming our own civilians."

"Are you sure that's a wise idea, Ma'am?" I ask hesitantly. I already know what her answer will be.

"That is not debatable, Colonel Snow. Do you understand? I don't want a single unnecessary death."

"Understood, Ma'am. Do you have any other suggestions then? I know it's your old backyard." President Holmes brings up a digital map on her screen and mine.

"According to Lieutenant Colonel LaSalle, it looks like the TECs have set up their headquarters in the Justice Building here," she points to a grid square on the map. The infantry of Fort Henry Ford are trying to push towards it, but they're meeting heavy resistance from enemy rocket and machine gun teams that have occupied the worker's housing sector. If you look here, you'll see a string of apartment buildings and warehouses here along the waterfront of this canal. If you stay to the west of the warehouses, you should be able to be shielded by the canal to your left from any kind of automatic weapons fire or attack from the apartment buildings. The Peacekeepers tried the same tactics that TEC appears to be using now. It's how we were able to seize the Justice Building back during the Revolution. Hopefully, history books about the tactics of the UDP rebels aren't required reading in the TEC and lightening will strike twice."

"I doubt many history books are required reading for them," I say flippantly. "At least any history books with real history in them…"

"Also, something else, Colonel Snow…it looks like the TECs are starting to pull workers out of their buildings and are forcing them toward the Justice Building."

"Human shields?" I ask remembering the tragedy in front of the Presidential Mansion twenty-six years before that took the life of Prim Everdeen.

"We don't know. Just be extremely careful, Colonel. You don't know what kind of situation you'll be facing when you get on the ground."

"Oh, you know me, Madame President. 'Careful is my middle name.""

"Then I must be mistaken. I can't possibly be talking with Colonel Ares Snow." I manage some laughter.

"Alright, Ma'am. I got it. But you wouldn't want me on this job if you thought I couldn't get it done right?"

"As much as it pains me to admit it…you're right. Just do the deed, Ares, and come back. I doubt this will all be over quickly and I need my best intact."

"I'm flattered, Ma'am." I see her actually smile a bit through the video link.

"Well, before you get to cocky, we just received another update from General Sturm. He's been fighting on the ground in District 2 for over an hour and has almost broken through to the TEC headquarters. He wanted me to tell you, 'Let Snow know that I may be old , but I can still fight better than that little wet behind the ears…" she coughs uncomfortably before she says the next words, "…little wet behind the ears, mother fuc….' His words, not mind, Colonel." I laugh the hardest I have in a awhile. "Are you gonna let him talk about you like that or are you gonna prove him wrong?"

"Let's just say Sturm and I will have a lot to discuss when this is all over and we get back to the Capitol."

"Then get going! I'll talk to you again when the 'Mockingjay and Stripes' is flying over the District 6 Justice Building again!"

"Yes, Ma'am!" the video-link cuts out as she hangs up. I run to the cockpit and brief the pilots on the course action I've decided.

"We'll fly in low over the inland sea. TEC forces should be mostly concerned with the ground forces to the west and hopefully won't notice a lone hovercraft coming in from the east."

I then point out on the digital map where Lieutenant Colonel LaSalle is located in the streets southwest of the Justice Building.

"There's heavy crossfire coming in across this square," I say to the captain of the hovercraft and his co-pilot, "but we need to link-up with the ground commander here to help guide us in to the objective. We'll do a hard drop over the square and then you can cut back out to the southeast and then support us as a fires platform and communication relay back to the Capitol. Understand?"

"Yes Sir!" the pilot says as he nods his head.

A few minutes later, we're skimming eight hundred feet over the black water of the inland sea below. Through the viewscreen, we can see the orange glow of the fires burning in city of District 6 as the battles rage through the streets. The crackling radio transmissions of the desperate infantry come through our headsets as they scream to each other, trying to get into position to attack the fierce defense of the TECs dug into the buildings around them. The frustrated tankers yell back, begging for permission to push into the city and assist in the fight, but another voice keeps telling most of them to stay back.

_"Lieutenant Colonel LaSalle,"_ I can even tell through the radio how frustrated he is that most of his heaviest forces are being left out of the fight, but a direct command from the President can't be easily ignored. _"I'll say one thing for this guy, he can certainly follow orders better than I can…"_

We fly over the harbor and see the tiny forms of armored TEC infantry dug into positions below. We begin to receive erratic machine gun and rocket fire, but the enemy is spread out and little threat to us. The pilot arms his missile pods and makes quick work of them below. I must admit, it is very satisfying in a guilty sort of way to see enemies who were shooting at you a few seconds ago suddenly disappear into a cloud of smoke and flame.

We begin weaving our way through the skyscrapers toward Lieutenant Colonel LaSalle's transponder signal. The sound of sporadic gunfire begins to ricochet off the hull of our ship. I guess our enemies want us to go down in flames, but we're not worried. The armor on this assault hovercraft is more than thick enough to stop bullets. Below, UDP infantry and armored personnel carriers are beginning to get the upper hand on the TECs. We can see that our guys and gals below are encouraged by the sight of a friendly hovercraft. I wish we could give them more help, but we're here to go for the Justice Building.

On the south side of a square fifteen blocks from the waterfront, we find Lieutenant Colonel LaSalle's convoy. We can see him dismounted next to an armored personnel carrier and he is flanked by two tanks providing security. Unfortunately, they are limited to firing only their machine guns among the apartment buildings. Their devastating main cannons remain silent.

I give my final commands to the pilot and then run back to the crew compartment in the rear of the hovercraft. I find the rest of the platoon making final preparations to their equipment. Everyone checks to see that their weapons are loaded and oiled, their gear is strapped to them tightly, and that their night vision glasses work properly.

I grab my own gear and begin to strap it on. Full body armor and helmet are part of the package this time.

_"Hopefully, Ohm's magic bullets aren't part of the TEC forces new standard issue…" _Finally, I take my place in the front of the crew compartment as the pilot signals from the cockpit that he's ready. We'll only have about ten seconds hovering above the square before we become too big a target for enemy rockets and the pilots will have to bug out. I click the lights in the troop compartment from white to red and go through the final announcements.

"Ten seconds till hard drop!" I yell out to the platoon.

_"Ten seconds till hard drop!"_ they repeat after me. We all line up at ten hatches, five on each side of the hovercraft. All of us are nervous…especially me. Even though I've done a hard drop a million times in training, I've never actually done one while being shot at.

The reason that this particular landing method is called, "a hard drop" is that there is absolutely nothing preventing you from slamming into the ground except for your own skill. We feel the hovercraft stabilize into a straight hover.

"Standby!"

The hatches swing open and the wind from the engines fills the compartment. Ten, black ropes release from the sides of the hovercraft and uncoil the one hundred feet down to the ground. The ropes swing in the breeze five feet in front of us, and would be absolutely invisible in the blackness of the night without night vision glasses. Only one thing remains: jumping out with all your gear into mid-air, clearing the sides of the hovercraft, grabbing the rope without letting go, and then sliding down to the very bottom. Better jump just right: too short or too far and it's a very long way down to the ground…

The TECs on the ground have already started to fire at us. We have to move now.

"_This is it…" _one more deep breath. "GO!"


	6. Chapter 6

I leap out into the darkness, flying forward towards the rope. Even though in reality it's only for the briefest of seconds, time seems to slow to a stop. Breath seems trapped in my lungs as my organs leap to my throat in the feeling of weightlessness. I stretch my arms out in midair while registering the rapport of the machine guns firing below me in the square. My brain hears the sound of their rounds as they sizzle past my ears. In short, _I'm terrified _but I can't let myself fail.

Just as I fear that my flailing arms will miss their target, I feel the smooth surface of the rope slam into my palms. My hands latch onto it, I kick my feet together along its length, and I begin to slide down to the earth. Time begins moving at normal speed again, and my diaphragm can finally push the trapped air from my chest. I scan over my shoulders to the left and right and see that the rest of my platoon is sliding to the earth right along with me.

As soon as I hit the ground, I push the rope away from me and begin to run towards Lieutenant Colonel LaSalle's tanks. The square is filled with the burning hulks of cars whose flickering light bounces off the darkened sides of the surrounding buildings, but the power has still been cut to the street lights and the majority of the space is still in night's blackness. My night vision glasses reveal piles of other debris throughout the square that I use for cover as TEC rounds continue to skip off the asphalt around me. I look back behind me again, the sergeants have gathered the last of the platoon together and are guiding them right in behind me.

As the last friendly soldier hits the earth, I hear a radio transmission come over the earpiece in my helmet.

"Slicer 6, this is Hawk Flight, we are empty, request permission to bug out to the east and stand by on station."

"Hawk Flight, this is Slicer 6," I yell back into my mic, "roger you are cleared out. Standby on station for possible close air support missions."

"Roger 6, this is Hawk Flight, heading out. _Good Hunting_." The hovercraft's engines rev and he shoots out of the square back towards the waterfront kicking up a cloud of dust behind him. The platoon and I are now alone in the square with Lieutenant Colonel LaSalle's convoy and the TECs in the buildings.

I see a burned out train of trolley cars that has been blown off its track about fifty meters in front of us. It will be a quick run from there over to Lieutenant Colonel LaSalle's position and the cars will be good cover for everybody else while the two of us come up with the next move.

"Sergeant Denali!" I yell to a soldier a few feet away from me.

"Yes Sir," he shouts back over the cacophony of the gun fire around us.

"Follow me to the trolley! Get everyone under cover."

"Roger Sir, we're right on your ass!"

Dipping and dodging through the maze of debris and TEC bullets, the entire platoon makes it behind the trolley without suffering a single casualty. I give control of the men over to Sergeant Denali before breaking into a run towards the tanks.

I find Lieutenant Colonel LaSalle huddled behind his vehicle as rounds impact around him. He is angry that his infantry have not managed a breakthrough this far forward yet.

"I don't want excuses, Captain! There's no reason that you shouldn't be up to the square by now! I made it, didn't I?" His dark, smooth skin and rounded features are characteristic of most people from District 6. In fact, his brown eyes remind me a little of President Holmes.

"_Maybe he and Driva are distantly related,"_ I briefly muse in my head. "Now, don't you think you might be being a little hard on him?" I yell to LaSalle with a strong touch of sarcasm. He turns and finally sees me.

"Sir!" he screams back over the ongoing deafening symphony of metal striking metal. I've met LaSalle once before at a conference of mechanized officers in the Capitol a few years back. I think it genuinely annoys him that I'm ten years younger than he is, but still outrank him. But again, to his credit, he has never once shown a lapse of professionalism when in my presence. Therefore, I always at least _try_ to return the favor. "President Holmes told me to be expecting you. Hell of day, isn't it?"

"That's for damn sure. So what's the latest update?"

"Well, Sir, the TECs are dug in hard to that apartment building in the square. They've got rocket grenadier teams on the top floors that we can't get a shot on. However, those bastards are making it impossible for my infantry to advance any further than three blocks to our southeast without being blown to pieces."

"Yeah, we saw 'em flying in. Looked like they were taking a bit of a beating but were holding their own." I pull out my digital map and highlight the route that President Holmes suggested. LaSalle agrees that it's the best way to the Justice Building but emphasizes that the building in front of us is effectively a road block.

"It's no use, Sir! We've got nothing down here that can take out those rocket teams."

"Are you sure about that?" I gesture to the tank still laying down machine gun fire next to us.

"No Sir! Absolutely Not! President Holmes explicitly said 'No main gun in the city.'"

"I never said that I was going to use the main gun…" I say trailing off as I start to climb onto the steel beast.

"Sir! What about civilian casualties?" Lieutenant Colonel LaSalle is starting to get upset.

"Didn't you report to President Holmes that the TECs were pulling all the civilians out of these buildings?"

"Well, yes but…"

"Did they pull all the civilians out of that building?"

"Yes Sir, but…"

"If I can't get to the Justice Building to rescue them back from the TECs, then what's the point? We'll rebuild. That's what victory is," I say jumping up on top of the turret and banging on the commander's hatch. The confused sergeant inside opens up and stares at me.

"Can I help you, Sir?"

"Well, yes you can, Sergeant." I reach inside, grab him by the arms and pull him up and out of the turret. "I'm gonna need to borrow your tank for a few minutes."

"Sir, what the hell are you doing!" He yells angrily, but he's smart enough not to start swinging back against a high ranking officer. I gently push him off the back of the turret and down to the ground. "Sir, you can't do this, I'm signed for this tank!" he yells back up at me.

"I assure you, you'll get it back without a…." I pause carefully. "Well, I'm sure any scratches will just buff right out."

"Sir…" I slam the hatch closed before he completes his next sentence. The poor gunner and driver still inside the vehicle are confused into speechlessness.

"How're you gentlemen doing?" I ask trying to stay light hearted. "Actually, Gunner, it may be better for you if you step outside as well." He just nods nervously, pops his hatch, and jumps out to join the commander.

"Um Sir…" I hear a voice in my headset as I reach over and close the gunner's hatch.

"Is that you, Driver?" I ask back.

"Yes Sir. What are exactly are we doing?"

"Do you trust me, Driver?"

"Hell No, Sir!"

"Good, an honest man, I can respect that. To answer your question…." I scan the turret sights over to the front door of the building across the square. "Check your display down there. Do you see these doors?"

"Yes Sir."

"Alright, when I say 'move out' slam it to full throttle, head straight at those doors, and don't stop until I tell you to. Simple right?"

"WHAT! That will bring the building straight down on top of us."

"Now, you're getting it! But the building will only fall straight down on us if you don't go fast enough, so be sure you really hit that gas."

"Have you ever done this before, Sir?" I remember using _Tracks_ against Ohm's gate last year.

"_In theory_…yes."

"What do you mean _'in theory?'_"

"Well, I wasn't inside the tank at the time, but the concept is still sound…MOVE OUT!" The driver slams his foot down on the accelerator. I feel the turbines rev and the tank shoots forward.

"Sir, I really don't know about this…"

"Just don't slow down! Keep going faster and stay perfectly straight."

"Sir!" I can tell he's getting nervous, but it's essential he not deviate at all.

"DON'T STOP! DON'T TURN! KEEP GOING!" The doorway looms larger and larger. We're just a few seconds away from impact. I can hear the driver screaming in my headset. I wince, hoping that we're moving fast enough.

"_CRASH!"_ The tank slams through the front doors and keeps going. Clouds of dust, shattered pieces of wood, and crushed concrete collapse onto the armor outside of us, totally covering our viewports and blinding us. We can feel ourselves slicing through the building supports but have no idea what's really going on.

"Sir!" the driver screams in panic.

"Don't you dare turn one degree! We have to punch out the other side before the building comes down or else we'll be digging our way out with our bare hands, understand?"

Finally, we feel the tank blast through the far side wall of the building and burst back into the open.

"HARD LEFT!" I scream. The driver instinctually slams the steering yolk over and pivot steers almost ninety degrees instantly. "GO! GO!" Even through the thick armor of the tank, I can hear the groaning and screeching of the building next to us. We're running out of time. "ANOTHER HARD LEFT!" The driver slams the yolk over again and sends us skidding back into the square. "STRAIGHT, STRAIGHT, STRAIGHT!" Finally I hear the building's supports give way. I scan behind us with the turret just in time to see the entire apartment building, TEC soldiers and all, collapse into a huge cloud of wreckage and dust. The square has been cleared and LaSalle's infantry are safe to move into the square.

"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT COLONEL SNOW!" I hear President Holmes screaming into my headset over the radio. "I DON'T KNOW WHO YOU THINK YOU ARE BUT…" I click off the radio.

"_She's a little too upset to talk to right now…maybe later."_

Slowly, the driver brings the tank to a halt right next to LaSalle's other vehicles. Before I pop the hatch, I reach down from the turret into the driver's compartment. My brave companion is shaking like a leaf as I pat him on the shoulder.

"You did a great job, Soldier."

"Thhhh…Thhhhannk you, Sir." I climb out of the tank without ever have seen his face. Lieutenant Colonel LaSalle is livid when I hit the ground next to him.

"President Holmes is blowing up the radio, Sir. She's going to kill you when this is over…"

"Well, then it shouldn't be any of your concern anyway!" I signal for Sergeant Denali to move the platoon up to my position. "Bring your infantry forward and let's get this done."

"Yes Sir…." he trails off, knowing it won't do him any good to argue. Vaguely, in the background, I hear the tank commander cursing my name.

"Sir! What did you do my tank? It'll never be the same…"

I do my best to ignore him and as soon my platoon is formed up, I give LaSalle his last orders.

"Cordon off the Justice Building with your infantry. Don't let anyone get out. I'll take my commandos in and capture the TEC leadership. Also, we'll figure out exactly what the hell they're doing with a thousand District 6 civilians up there."

"Understood, Sir."

I signal to Sergeant Denali and we're off.

"Oh, and LaSalle, one more thing…"

"Yes Sir?" he grumbles back at me.

"After President Holmes gets done with me, if I end up working for you….remember, I always thought you were a really outstanding human being." Slowly a grin creeps across his face and then he bursts out laughing.

"Sir, if you end up working for me, I'll always remember just how much guts you really have, Ares 'The Human Wrecking Ball' Snow." I join him in the laugh.

"_Another nickname,"_ I think. _"Actually, I like 'God of War' better. Seems more dignified…"_

"I'll see you on the other side, Lieutenant Colonel LaSalle, _if I survive…"_

"Same to you, Sir."


	7. Chapter 7

As the rest of the platoon and I push past the mountain of rubble that used to the apartment building, we see the canal that President Holmes described to me over the video-link. I motion for the others to follow me and we move carefully along the water's edge, keeping the warehouses to our right. We scan the rooftops with our weapons anticipating an attack, and unfortunately don't have to wait long. Only about a quarter mile from the square, we start taking machine gun and rocket fire from the rooftops.

I dive for cover behind a concrete retaining wall and order the rest of the platoon to do the same. Sergeant Denali runs over to me as a few of the others try to futilely return fire.

"Sir, what do we do? We're totally pinned down!"

"We do this, Sergeant," I say keying the radio in my helmet. "Hawk Flight, this is Slicer 6."

"Slicer 6, Hawk Flight. Go ahead."

"Roger, beaucoup bad guys on the rooftops of the warehouses to my northeast. You got eyes on?"

"Standby." My earpiece goes silent for a moment. I know that the pilots are repositioning their optics for a better view. The thermal scopes they have in their cockpit can see a fly land on piece of garbage from five miles away. "Slicer 6, Hawk Flight, roger we got eyes on about fifty bandits, broken up into fire teams along the five warehouse rooftops all the way to the Justice Building. Need a little help?" the pilot says with a cool assurance that guys on the ground like me love to hear.

"If you don't mind." I pull out a small box from my pocket that looks like a flashlight. "Night vision glasses up! Night vision glasses up!" I scream to the rest of the platoon. The command is echoed down the line and then I click the box to on. "Hawk Flight, Slicer 6, friendly positions marked by IR strobe."

"Roger, Hawk Flight, we are inbound. Standby." The box I pulled from my pocket is an infrared strobe light. Completely invisible to the naked eye, it sends out an intense pulse of infrared light visible in night vision glasses up to several thousand feet in the air. "Slicer 6, Hawk Flight," the pilot's voice crackles again in my earpiece, "I copy your strobe. We are wings level."

"Roger, Hawk Flight, you are _cleared hot_! Bring the rain!" I wave my hand over my head violently. "Everybody down! Everybody down!" The entire platoon dives into the ground, kissing mother earth as closely they can without digging a hole. I turn to Sergeant Denali. "You've ever seen a close-air support attack run in real life?"

"No Sir," he replies nervously. A grin creeps across my face.

"Well then, get ready for a religious experience." We hear the engines of the hovercraft in the distance. The quiet hum grows rapidly into a deafening roar as the ship screams in from the south at top speed only a few hundred feet above the ground. The TECs on the rooftops helplessly try to fire back as the hovercraft's four 25 millimeter cannons and heavy machine guns open up on them in a display that makes even the most spectacular Liberation Day Fireworks Show look like child's play in comparison. We see the blasts from the high-explosive shells rip the roofs of the warehouses to pieces in bright flashes of smoke and fire. The bodies of TEC soldiers are blown fifty feet into the air before they disappear into the darkness. As the hovercraft vanishes toward the north, the platoon and I are left to marvel at the sheer destructive force of what we just called in. I click the IR strobe off before scanning the rooftops with my night vision glasses. I see no movement among the flickering flames of the devastated rooftops: _not a single thing up there is left alive._ As the rest of the platoon begins to hoot and holler like a bunch of stupid school children, I scream for them to knock it off.

"Hawk Flight, Slicer 6, I'm not seeing any movement up there. You see any left intact?"

"Slicer 6, Hawk Flight, negative I don't copy any movement but…." His transmission abruptly cuts off.

"Hawk Flight, Slicer 6." Still nothing. "Hawk Flight, Slicer 6, I lost you there." Nothing.

"HAWK FLIGHT, SLICER 6!"

"Roger, Slicer 6…It's just we're not really sure what we're seeing at the Justice Building right now."

"What do you mean?"

"We've got TECs moving on the ground down there, and we've got three massive TEC transport hovercraft that are landed directly in front of the steps…"

"Can you engage?" I ask hopefully.

"Negative, Slicer 6. We've got probably about five hundred civilians down there." My heart drops.

"Are they being used as shields?"

"Negative 6, you really need to get over here…_rapidly_."

"Hawk flight, Slicer 6, moving now! Keep eyes on!" I scream for the rest of the platoon to follow me and we sprint the remaining ten blocks to the Justice Building. With the TEC fire teams destroyed by the airstrike, there's no point in being careful if it's as bad as the hovercraft is reporting.

We reach the edge of Justice Building Square and we are floored by what we see. Just as the pilots reported, three massive transport hovercraft, emblazoned with the TEC seal, are lined up side by side. Each of the ships is at least three hundred yards long and about fifty yards tall. Their massive outlines completely block out the sky. About a hundred TEC Soldiers guard a few hundred District 6 civilians. Men, women, and children, most still dressed in their pajamas, are being herded like cattle up the loading ramps.

The TECs are dressed in their trademark blue armor from head to toe. Each appears like a completely inhuman robot. Not even the smallest piece of skin is exposed to indicate otherwise. Even their faces are completely hidden behind black visors encased in blue ballistic plastic helmets. Wives scream as the soldiers rip them away from their husbands. Children bawl with hopeless tears as they are pulled out of their mother's and father's arms. The TECs understand and care nothing about family. Their family is their state and their state alone. Quite simply, it may be the most tragic thing that I have ever witnessed in my life.

One of the guards spots us standing at the edge of the square and opens fire. The platoon and I dive for cover behind some scattered debris. A few of my soldiers try to shoot back, but I order them to stop.

"Cease Fire! Cease Fire, dammit! There's too many innocent people over there!" So, as we are pinned down, we watch helplessly as the last of the District 6 civilians are loaded onto the ships. The massive engines roar to life, shaking the very ground like an earthquake before the transports climb slowly straight into the sky and disappear to the east.

"Fire! Fire now!" the rest of the platoon begins shooting. TEC soldiers begin to fall left and right.

I key my radio again.

"Hawk Flight, Slicer 6!"

"Go ahead 6!"

"Can you see the hovercraft that just lifted off from the Justice Building?"

"Roger, we got a clear shot. Do you want us to take them down?"

"Negative, negative! They're loaded with about a thousand innocent civilians. Where they headed?"

"Northeast, straight toward, "The Canada." We can try to pursue, but we don't have the fuel to tail them for long and those things can fly clear around the world and back."

"Negative, Hawk Flight, do not pursue." I realize that it's hopeless. Any realistic attempt to stop the hovercraft would just result in the deaths we are trying so hard to prevent. Those people are at the mercy of the TEC now…and it sickens me to know that I'm too late. I click my radio to an emergency broadcast channel. "This is Colonel Ares Snow to all UDP air defense batteries around District 6. Do not engage three TEC transports that are currently exiting District 6. I say again, do not engage three TEC transports that are currently exiting District 6. Those ships are loaded with UDP civilians." I receive an acknowledgement from Air Defense Command in my headset before my attention turns back to the remaining TECs in the square. I feel the anger and rage rising inside me now.

"Let's go get some payback!" I scream as I order the platoon forward. The TECs left behind are obviously poorly trained compared to my soldiers. In a few minutes, we've forced them back inside the Justice Building.

With Sergeant Denali right behind me, I lead an entrance team to the front doors. A quick check reveals they have bolted it shut from the inside: _a last stand._ These enemies realized that there was no going home for them, and probably don't care as long as it means dying for their Supreme Lawgiver.

I motion for a breach man to come up. He pulls a small explosive charge from his vest and straps it to the heavy wooden doors. He nods when he's ready. I raise my rifle to my shoulder and give a single nod back. His finger presses the detonator and the charge blows the doors off their hinges with a tremendous boom. Before the TECs inside have a chance to recover from the shock, I surge forward with my team behind me.

There is no electricity and the inside is black as pitch, but my trusty night vision glasses don't fail. I pull the trigger on a TEC standing stunned directly in the doorway and he collapses to the ground. I whip to my left, spot another enemy hiding in the corner, and make quick work of him as well. Sergeant Denali blasts another one in the far right of the room who was moving his weapon up to engage me. The third soldier inside scores a kill on an enemy crouched at the top of the main staircase.

"Room Clear?" I shout to my team.

"Room clear," they reply as they scan their corners.

I give a hand signal to get back into a stack and we move up the staircase. More of my soldiers run into the building to clear the remaining rooms on the ground floor while we clear the top floor. As we move, scanning the top of the staircase, the sound of UDP rifles firing away lets us know they're doing their job well.

The rest of the rooms above are empty. Finally, we reach what must be the mayor's office because the elaborate mahogany door is emblazoned with the Seal of District 6. I look to Sergeant Denali who gives me a nod of readiness. I rear back and kick the door with all my might. It flies open revealing a single TEC soldier standing behind a huge desk in the darkness. His blue armor has gold stripes up the arms and he pulls out a pistol from a holster on his side.

_"An officer….like me."_

_Unlike me_, however, my counterpart never has a chance to fire his weapon. I let loose a burst right into his chest. He collapses backward onto the ground as we pour in to clear the rest of the space.

"Room Clear?"

"Room Clear."

We relax a little and I motion for Sergeant Denali to come with me. The two of us walk over to the officer. He is lying on his back in a pool of blood, but we can see he's still breathing. I kneel down next to him as Sergeant Denali raises his weapon to cover me.

I carefully reach down and yank the officer's helmet off his head. He's young…_very young_ like me. A little trickle of blood dribbles down his ghostly pale cheek and the stubbly remains of his blond hair are drenched in sweat, but what strikes me the most are his piercing blue eyes that stare at me with a hatred so deep that it chills me to the core. If Ohm was a psychotic genius, then this man is a wild animal who knows that he has been trapped by the hunter.

For a few seconds, we just stare at each other in silence. Finally, I muster the courage to ask a single question:

"Why are you here?" Suddenly, he opens his mouth and flicks one of his canine teeth with his tongue. It dislodges and he bites down on hard it.

"No!" I shout as I realize what it is…._cyanide._

The officer raises his arms above his head in his nation's traditional victory sign because for him, dying for the Supreme Lawgiver _is_ a victory.

"Unus Europa…." A disgusting white foam begins to pour from his mouth. "Sub…unus…rector…" his lifeless head falls to the ground.

I walk back out into the square. Even though we have successfully driven the TEC out of District 6, it doesn't feel like a victory. So many innocents were abducted, and since we have no prisoners, we have no idea why. I have the hovercraft send me the latest reports from around Panem.

The story is the same in all three other districts. The TECs abducted the people, fled, and left the remainder of their forces to die. I'm confused and furious at the same time.

"_What are you doing, Rikard? What is your plan this time?"_

Suddenly, my communicuff beeps. It's President Holmes.

"_Uh oh…she's probably not too happy at me for hanging up on her earlier."_

"Ma'am, it's Colonel Snow. I am very sorry for what happened earlier with the apartment building, but I felt it was the only way…" She cuts me off with a deep sadness in her voice that I have never heard from her before.  
>"Colonel….General Sturm is dead."<p> 


	8. Chapter 8

I feel like I'm going to throw up. My knees begin to visibly shake and I have to steady myself to prevent from falling over. Through my spinning head, I'm finally able to manage a single word:

"How?" President Holmes seems as shaken as I am on the other end of the line.

"General Sturm's last report was that he made contact with the TEC command element in District 2 just outside of Ohm's factory. They were forcing workers from the plant into transport hovercraft. Reports are spotty, but from what we can figure out. He was leading his team forward to try to stop the TECs, when he took an enemy bullet through the chest. The medics tried to revive him, but he was already gone…"

_"He was trying to do what I couldn't…save those people."_ Now, I know I'm going to throw up. I drop to my knees and stare down at the ground before heaving the contents of my stomach all over the pavement.

"Sir!" Sergeant Denali screams as he sees me. Before he runs over, I hold up my hand and wave him away. I definitely don't want to talk to anyone else right now. President Holmes hears me getting sick over the communicuff.

"Snow…Snow! Are you alright, Colonel?"

"I'm fine," I say cutting her off.

_I lied._ I'm nowhere near fine right now. In the last year, Sturm had become more of a mentor and friend that I could ever have hoped for. To lose him like this, just seems so unfair to the both of us.

"Did he…Did he at least save any of the civilians?" I hear President Holmes sigh mournfully.

"No….he didn't. The TECs fought the rest of Sturm's platoon back as they were trying to rescue him." I slam my fist into the ground in blind rage.

"_Dammit, no! He can't be gone!"_

"Colonel Snow," Holmes says cutting into my focus. "I'm on my way to an emergency session of the legislature. By tomorrow evening, there will be a vote…and I need you back in the Capitol immediately."

"For what?'" I ask angrily.

"For an announcement. I'll be expecting you."

"Can we at least bury the dead before we play politics, Driva?" I realize as soon as I said it that this was very cruel to her.

"Somebody has to play politics right now, Ares! Millions around Panem are in a panic and need leadership. This battle isn't just about _you_."

"Yes, Ma'am. I'm sorry," I say quietly.

"Don't worry. General Sturm will be laid to rest with full military honors as soon as possible. Just get back here."

"I'm on my way…" My communicuff cuts off. I climb to my feet and see Sergeant Denali and Lieutenant Colonel LaSalle standing over me with worried looks on their faces.

"Are you sure you're alright, Sir?" LaSalle asks.

"Yes," I say before changing the subject. "Can you two handle things here? I've just been ordered to get back to the Capitol at once."

"Yes, Sir. We've got this wrapped up," LaSalle says with admirable confidence. "After all, _we'll rebuild. That's what victory is…"_ I manage a grin in his direction.

"Sergeant Denali, get the hovercraft refueled and it back here immediately to pick me up."

"Roger Sir, will we be heading back with you?"

"No, stay here in 6 and assist Lieutenant Colonel LaSalle's forces in any way they need. This mission is just for me."

Half an hour later, I'm alone in the dark troop bay of the hovercraft flying toward the southwest. I stare at the bulkhead across from me, lost in my painful thoughts.

"_How can we win this fight without our best leader? He was gruff, he was angry, but he was a warrior…"_

Panem is fast running out of its old heroes. First, there was Ohm's betrayal. Now with the death of Sturm, who will the people look to when they think of the glory of the Revolution? The Victors of the Games of course, but as Katniss reminded me, all they want now is to live what's left of their lives in solitude and peace.

"_Of course, they've earned it…"_

Suddenly, I remember the Mockingjay pin. My hand feels it on my shirt, still safe and sound. Gently, I unpin it from the fabric and run it through my fingers for a few seconds. It is just a simple piece of gold, unremarkable in every way, except for the carnage that it has survived. However, this little piece of metal means more to the people of Panem than their lives. It is a symbol of the Revolution and the sacrifice made to earn them their freedom, and now I hold it in my hands. _The Revolution is in my hands._

Katniss' words seem ancient now. I cannot believe that she said them to me just this morning; before the attacks and back when this world was still in an all too brief age of peace.

"_This country needs new heroes to look up to…Alright then, Mockingjay, now how the hell am I supposed to be a hero when I'm constantly drowning in my own doubts?"_ I don't think she has an answer for that one.

I grip the pin tightly and lean my head against the bulkhead before realizing that I am totally exhausted. The loud drone of the hovercraft's engines soon lulls me into a deep sleep: one so deep that my nightmares and doubts leave me alone for at least one night.

The jolt of the hovercraft touching down in the hangar brings me back to consciousness. I walk down the ramp and Amelia is there to meet me.

"When was the last time you slept?" I ask her with a smirk. She just shakes her head.

"I don't even remember…"

"Maybe you should fix that."

"I wish I could, Sir, but there's still work to be done. President Holmes left instructions for you. She's still meeting with the closed session of the Legislature and expects to be there until tonight. So, it falls on you to be the senior leader on the ground here when the transport touches down."

"What transport?" I ask angrily.

"You mean she didn't brief you in the air?"

"I might have turned my communicuff off…" Amelia just sighs.

"An honor guard flew to District 2 last night to collect the remains of General Sturm. He will arrive here this afternoon for a state funeral service before returning back to 2 for burial. It's going to be broadcast on the national network so all of Panem can say goodbye. President Holmes wants you to preside over everything."

"WHAT? No, no, _no!_ _I can't_" I cannot afford to let the whole population of the country see me emotionally wrecked when the entire UDP is in the middle of a crisis."

"I'm afraid she was very insistent. She even had a temporary apartment set up for you in the Government District and a tailor will meet you there in an hour to fit you with a new set of dress blacks."

"Amelia, do I look like I can handle that right now?" I half yell and half taunt in her direction. She just looks straight back at me.

"Sir, I don't think it matters what you _'can handle'_ right now. Everyone is panicking, there is chaos in the streets, and what the country needs is to see its leaders clean, confident, and ready. If you can't do that, then maybe you should just not even bother coming to work anymore." She storms away, and I feel one foot tall.

"_Thanks Amelia, glad to know I can still count on you to put my ass back in line when I need it…"_

In less than twelve hours, I go from being shell-shocked and blood-soaked to actually making a decent impression of a spit-and-polished dignified officer. Dress Blacks are not my favorite outfit, but it's the image we need to put on for the country. The tailor actually did a remarkable job. No one would ever know that my uniform was slapped together so quickly. The only addition I made was the Mockingjay pin, which I still display proudly over my formal name plate.

It is only then that I finally realize that this will be my first time displaying my last name to the whole country at once. That little detail, plus the Mockingjay that everyone will recognize from its famous history will no doubt cause a riot among the newscasters covering this event.

_"So much for living a quiet little life after this…"_

The transport hovercraft lands directly in front of the Capitol Cathedral. An honor guard of eight soldiers, all pressed and polished carries the flag-drapped casket of my friend down the ramp and toward the front steps. They pause right on cue.

A band solemnly begins to play the Anthem of the UDP and every person salutes on cue. Halfway through the song, I feel a tear roll down my cheek as I comprehend this will be the last time I ever stand in the presence of General Wade Sturm. I don't wipe it away. Somehow, I feel it would disrespect his incredible memory. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a camera focus onto my face.

_"Let them see. I don't care."_

After the anthem concludes, I lead the honor guard and casket towards the altar of the cathedral. It is almost impossible to comprehend, but in less than eighteen hours, Sturm's memory has motivated people to pack this massive building to the rafters. An ocean of flowers rests in front of the pulpit. So many, in fact, the honor guard has to shift its course in order to respectfully lower the casket onto the stand.

The Head Chaplin of the Defense Ministry gets up and begins the service. I sit behind the pulpit, scanning the crowd as he talks about the meaning of life, death, honor, and sacrifice. To most, those are just words, but to men like General Sturm and me, they are real….and don't need someone in a white vestments to explain them.

In the front row, I suddenly see Gale Hawthorne sitting next to Amelia. Our eyes lock and I am awestruck how he seems to be silently begging me not to judge him right now. He is genuinely crushed by the loss of this man. I then remember how only yesterday the two of them were talking about fighting together during the Revolution. I know I won't say anything to Gale after this. No matter what problems exist between the two of us, I'll let him have his private moment to say goodbye.

"And now…" the Chaplin says concluding his piece of the service, "Colonel Ares Snow, of the Panem Defense Force would like to give a eulogy." He gestures to me and I walk toward the pulpit. I have nothing written down because I have no idea what I'm going to say. I stare out at the sea of mourners and realize that they want to hear something profound and moving. I feel sorry for them, because I just decide to talk about what kind of man my friend was.

"The last words that General Sturm ever said to me were, 'You young whipper snapping son of a…." I pause realizing that I'm in a church on national television, "…gun. May the odds be ever in your favor.' Well, I can say that when you served with General Wade Sturm the odds were always in your favor because you had such a talented and gifted man working at your side. He was a soldier and servant of his country without reproach, but he was so much more than that. He was also a friend, teacher, motivator…_and loving older brother."_ I speak for a few more minutes, telling a couple of stories of how my life will never be the same without him but also how the lessons that he taught me will fight on with me until Panem is once again at safe. As I wrap things up, I look out and see something I never expected. Sure, there was sadness, but in the eyes of the congregation, I also saw the unmistakable light of something better: _hope._

I return to my seat and the honor guard reappears. As they lift the casket off the stand, all of us rise with it and follow Wade Sturm outside toward his waiting hovercraft. We salute once more as he is carried aboard and the hovercraft lifts off for his final voyage back to his home in the mountains. As the ship disappears into the sky, a beautiful image enters my mind. I see a young boy named Wade who has never known pain or hardship, running through a sunny field of green grass toward another younger girl named Lucia. They are reunited after so many years apart and will never be separated again.

_"Rest well, Sir. You've earned it."_

I tried to call Lizzy just before the funeral, but couldn't get through to her, Katniss, or Peeta. Normally, I'd be worried, but considering the TECs didn't go anywhere near District 12 and three quarters of Panem is clogging the phone lines with worried calls to loved ones, I settled on trying again this evening. As the funeral crowd breaks up, all I want to do is return to my temporary apartment, talk to my wife, and crash between the sheets for a few hours…but no such luck.

A message from President Holmes tells me to meet her at the Legislature immediately. Even though it is only three blocks from the cathedral, I still have to take a car with Amelia to avoid the throngs of reporters desperate to get an interview with the enigmatic orating Colonel with Katniss Everdeen's Mockingjay pin and the last name of a former unpopular President. Those questions will have to wait for another day.

As Amelia and I arrive at the Legislature, we meet President Holmes in a private hallway just outside the main chamber.

"Captain Flagg, will you wait for us in there," she says gesturing towards the chamber doors.

"Yes, Ma'am," Amelia says respectfully before leaving us.

"Sorry, I know you must be about to collapse, Ares, but all of us decided to make this announcement to the country tonight without delay."

"And what announcement is that?"

"I think you know…" the look in her eyes says it all. The world is about to change in a big way.

"Understood, Ma'am."

"We actually would have done it sooner, but we had to wait for the guests to arrive."

"What guests?" I ask curiously.

"We thought it was important that Panem stands united for this. So, all of our old heroes will stand shoulder to shoulder with all of our new heroes."

"You mean like General Sturm?"

"Yes, he would have been one of them..."

"You know Ma'am," I say firmly. "Whoever you select to be the next Chief of the UDP Defense Forces will set a major tone for this conflict ahead. He or she can't be a politician…no offense."

"None taken."

" It is just that I want my next boss to be as much a warrior as General Sturm was. I can't work for a wimp."

"Well, luckily for both you and me, that decision is no longer in my hands," she says cheerfully.

"What do you mean?"

"General Sturm actually discussed this issue with me a few weeks ago, and he and I already decided on a replacement."

"And who is that?" I ask very irritated considering he and I never discussed it. President Holmes then pulls something from her pocket and tosses it to me.

"Just be sure you put those on before the announcement in there. I want the nation to know who the new kid in charge is."

I look at a black box in my hands. I open the lid and find two golden clusters of four stars: General's rank insignia."

She turns away from me and walks toward the Legislative Chamber. Without looking back, she smugly shouts one more thing before disappearing through the doors:

"Congratulations, _General_ _Snow_."


	9. Chapter 9

President Holmes steps through the chamber doors, leaving me alone. I stare down at the box in my hands to total disbelief. Suddenly, I hear a beautiful voice from behind me.

"_General Snow_…kinda like the sound of that." I turn around to see Lizzy standing there, holding Octavian against her chest. Without thinking, I run toward them and wrap them up in my arms. "Well, Glad to see you too…" Lizzy says surprised at my forwardness.

"No," I say softly. "Just give me a second." I bury my face into her hair and just breathe in her magical scent. The smell of the sea that makes everything else fade away. After a few more moments of quiet bliss, I look up over Lizzy's shoulder to see another family slowly round the corner. Katniss quietly steps forward, not wanting to interrupt my moment. Peeta follows close behind, leading Prim and Haymitch by their hands. I silently mouth the words, "Thank You." Peeta mouths back, "You're Welcome." Katniss just nods.

I lean next to Lizzy's ear and whisper:

"I love you…so much."

"I kinda love you too," she whispers back with a smirk. Suddenly, Octavian begins to fidget in Lizzy's arms. I lean over and plant a soft kiss on his forehead.

"And I love you, too, Little Man." The touch seems to calm him down again and Lizzy gently shifts him to her other arm. She catches a glimpse of the Mellarks over her shoulder and they walk up to join the conversation. Katniss immediately notices the Mockingjay pin on my chest.

"How's that working for you?" she says with a smile.

"I think it brought me a lot of luck the last two days." I see Lizzy's brow furrow with tension.

"So…" she says awkwardly.

"Go on, ask it," I say to her. "I know you're dying to know."

"Which one did they send you to?"

"6," I say quietly.

"Was it as bad as they were reporting on the news?" Peeta asks concerned. My response unsettles all of them.

"_Worse…_"

"I was so scared when they reported that General Sturm was killed," Lizzy says despondently. "I figured that you would be with him."

"No," I manage to reply, "He wanted to lead the team to District 2."

"I'm so sorry, Ares. I know how much he meant to you," Lizzy says placing her hand on my chest, "but I was just so happy to see you alive when they broadcast the funeral on the train."

"Yeah, about that," I say annoyed. "What are you doing here? It's not exactly…" I cut myself off when I remember Prim and Haymitch are here and I don't want to scare them. I was going to say "not the safest place," but settle for, "not exactly the quietest place right now."

"Well," Katniss replies, "When you receive a direct request from the President of Panem, you don't exactly ignore it."

"Holmes, asked you to be here?" I ask confused.

"She actually asked both of us to come to the Capitol," Peeta adds. "They even had a special train from District 12 arranged." Suddenly, what Holmes said about having all the old and new heroes standing shoulder to shoulder is starting to make a little more sense.

"Do you know if you were the only ones invited or…"

"Or if all the surviving Victors were invited?" a woman's voice rings out from behind us. "To answer your question, Sir, _yes we were_." She is almost fifty years old, but still has the same striking brown eyes that she did when she made her debut in the Hunger Games three decades ago. I recognize her immediately.

"Hello, Johanna," Katniss says nervously.

"Long time no see, Katniss. Same to you, Peeta."

"It's good to see you, Johanna." She is followed by an older Nordic fellow; tall with light blonde hair, a blond beard, and blue eyes. Johanna gestures to him.

"I'd like to introduce my husband, Thom. I met him when I went back home to District 7. He's one of the best lumberjacks I've ever known, except for me, of course." The rest of us smile politely until Johanna spoils the mood. "Thom, this is Katniss and Peeta, obviously married now with rugrats as well." Prim and Haymitch pull closer to Peeta's side. "Guess, I wasn't important enough to be invited to the wedding." She turns back to Thom. "The three of us used to kill people on television for other people's enjoyment." Thom must be used to such behavior because he doesn't miss a beat and stands there as silently as the trees he cuts down. "You know, we have a daughter as well, but she's much older. Didn't waste any time getting a bun in my oven, Katniss." Katniss just stares back at Johanna unable to say anything. "She's even in the military," Johanna says glancing at my uniform before her gaze shifts over to Lizzy. "Now, _you must_ be an Odair." Johanna says with a not completely benign grin. "I'd recognize one of Finnick's clan anywhere." Lizzy beams back.

"Yes, I'm his niece…but it's _Snow_ now."

"Snow?" Johanna spits back in disbelief.

"Yes, _Snow,_" Lizzy says taking a proud step closer to my side.

"Lizzy," I awkwardly mumble through gritted teeth, but my brave wife is not fazed.

"I heard Annie passed away recently. Is that true?"

"Yes, two years ago…"

"Did she know about him?"

"_Yes_," Lizzy says starting to get angrier.

"That's probably what killed her then…" Lizzy tries to lunge forward, but I hold her back.

"It not worth it, Lizzy. _Calm down_." I whisper. Johanna turns to me next.

"You know, I'm not surprised they let you live…but I really wish they hadn't."

"You don't know him, Johanna!" Peeta shouts at her. Prim and Haymitch jump and run over to Katniss.

"Maybe not, Peeta…but I don't want to try to either."

"Are Beetee and Enobaria coming?" Katniss says angrily.

"Beetee's dead, Katniss! He's been dead for ten years, and Enobaria has been missing for almost twenty! You'd know that if you hadn't lost your mind, broke your promise to me, shot the_ wrong _president, and then went and hid in coal country for over two and half decades. The three of us are the last of our kind!"

"What do you mean Enobaria disappeared?" Peeta asks nervously.

"Nobody knows what happened….well, _almost_ nobody." The way she says 'almost nobody' sets us all on edge. "I have to admit, Enobaria vanishing did wonders for my recovery. She even made a little donation for my wedding to Thom." Johanna holds up her left hand and displays a thin gold band on her ring finger. "After her _retirement_, she didn't need her gold teeth anymore and graciously let me have a few." All of us have our worst suspicions confirmed. Johanna definitely killed her.

"What happened to you, Johanna?" Katniss asks dismayed.

"No, Katniss," she replies quietly. "What happened to you?" She looks down at my uniform and sees the Mockingjay pin above my name plate. "Obviously, you need to rethink who you trust."

"Obviously…" Katniss says staring right back at her.

"C'mon, Sweetheart," Johanna says grabbing Thom's hand, "Let's go and do what we came here for." They walk together and disappear into the Legislative chamber. We all stare at the doors as they close behind the two of them.

"Why did you let her talk to you like that? After everything you've done for this country?" Katniss asks me.

"Because, I know what was done to her…and I'd probably be the same way."

"Hello, Catnip…" When she hears his voice, Katniss freezes solid as a block of ice. It seems the difficult reunions aren't over for her today. Slowly, we all turn around to see Gale Hawthorne standing in one of his District 1 suits staring back at us.

Katniss is too stunned to speak, so Peeta does what he does best: speak up for the woman he loves.

"Hello, Gale. It's good to see you again."

"You too, Peeta."

"Gale…" Katniss finally manages to force out. "How… have you been?"

"It's been a very long twenty-six years, Katniss."

"But it looks like you've done very well for yourself, right? I'm sure you have a wife and children?"

"No wife, no children, Catnip. Afraid there was only one girl for me. Unfortunately, I let her get away." Katniss begins to tremble almost imperceptibly. She leans on Peeta who holds her tight.

Gale sees the two children and kneels down to them.

"Hey there, Cutie? What's your name?"

"Prim," she answers quietly.

"That's a beautiful name," Gale pauses. "I knew another girl named Prim once, a long time ago. I loved her a lot." Katniss now starts shaking. Peeta holds her even tighter. He turns to Haymitch next. "What's your name, buddy?" Haymitch buries himself in Katniss' skirt.

"His name is Haymitch and he's a little shy with _strangers_," Peeta says firmly.

"That's perfectly alright. A good name for a good man." Gale climbs back to his feet. "Well, it was good to see you all again. I'm afraid I have to take my seat inside. Ares, Mrs. Snow," he says nodding to me and Lizzy before walking past us to the chamber.

"What is _he_ doing here?" Peeta says still holding Katniss. I realize the jig is up.

"He worked for Ohm. He took over the Special Defense Lab after…well, you know."

"And you didn't tell us?" Peeta says upset. Lizzy jumps in.

"We thought….that you'd be happier if you didn't know about him. We're sorry."

"No," Katniss says. "You did the right thing," she looks down at her children and then to Peeta. She begs him to let the matter drop with just with a glance.

"Mommy," Prim says. "Why are you crying?" It's true. Tears have started to roll down Katniss' cheeks.

"Oh, no reason, baby," she says wiping her face and forcing a smile. Prim is old enough to know when her mother is hiding something.

"Who was that man?"

"It's no one, baby," Katniss still says feigning a smile. "It's just someone that I knew a long time ago….but he's _not_ important."

Half an hour later, we are all assembled in the Legislative Chamber. President Holmes stands proudly at the podium, looking the part of the strong, dignified leader. I stand directly behind her as Chief of the Defense Forces. Behind me, the three surviving Victors of the Hunger Games: Johanna, Peeta, and Katniss stand side by side in front of a giant UDP flag. We look out at the 26 representatives of the Districts who anxiously await President Holmes' words…even though they already know exactly what she will say.

In the gallery above, Gale and Amelia sit with the rest of the honored guests. Lizzy is nearby. Prim and Haymitch sit to either side of her, and Octavian is on her lap. I cannot help but think how strong a woman she is. Not only can she survive terrorists and wars, but she can do it while taking care of the children as well.

"_I do not deserve her. I'm the luckiest man alive."_

The time comes and the cameras begin their live broadcast to every corner of Panem. The eyes of the whole nation are upon us.

"Citizens of Panem," President Holmes begins. "I must address you tonight as your President to ensure that you understand the magnitude of the events that have shaken our proud nation to the very core over the last two days.

The United Districts of Panem was suddenly and deliberately attacked by air and ground forces of the Trans-European Commonwealth. Innocent civilians across the Capitol, and Districts 2, 3, 6, and 13 were tyrannically slain, key government structures such as the Defense Ministry and Presidential Mansion were destroyed, and thousands more across the country were kidnapped against their will. Their fates still remain unknown.

As you can see behind me, I have asked several important individuals to join me in solidarity at this horrible time. Some of them have already paid the dearest of prices for Panem's freedom, while others are continuing to pay for our freedom everyday with their own sweat and blood. I now ask all men and women of Panem to join in their sacrifice from this moment onward. Too many of our loved ones died in the fires of the Revolution to allow us to fail in our sacred duty now.

Our enemy's brash disregard for our independence and sovereignty cannot be ignored. The Supreme Lawgiver of the Trans-European Commonwealth, Pierre Grosfrere, along with the traitor, Rikard Ohm, have made their intentions of dominating Panem clear. I cannot, and will not, allow this threat to our security to go unchecked.

Therefore, under Article II of the Constitution of the United Districts of Panem, I, the President, with the unanimous approval of the Legislature, do hereby announce that from this day until absolute victory is achieved, that a _STATE OF WAR_ exists between the United Districts of Panem and the Trans-European Commonwealth."


	10. Chapter 10

Lizzy and I both insist that Katniss, Peeta, and the kids stay with us for a few days but we are refused. The shock of so many demons from their past just seemed to be too much for the Mellarks, who took the first available train back to District 12. Early the next morning on the platform of Capitol Station, The Snows and the Mellarks once again say their sad goodbyes, unsure if one of us might not make it to the next reunion.

Lizzy hands me Octavian before she bends down and scoops Prim and Haymitch into her arms.

"You guys stay safe, and keep mailing me those letters. I love reading what you guys write."

"We will," Prim says. Haymitch nods with a smile.

"I love you guys so much," Lizzy says giving them each a hug. The two of them squeeze back.

"We love you too, Aunt Lizzy," Prim smiles.

"Love you," Haymitch says as well. Katniss and Peeta look down and smile. I reach down and playfully mess with each of their hair. The two Mellark cubs latch onto both of my legs and squeeze tight again. I wish moments like this, when I actually feel like a normal human being, could last forever.

"You guys be careful," I whisper.

"We love you, Uncle Ares." Haymitch releases and goes back over the Peeta, but Prim holds on a little bit longer. I kneel down to look her in the eyes and I can see her fear. Haymitch is still a little too young to comprehend what is going on, but Prim has heard her parents' stories and knows the faces of those in the book her parents keep. She understands what war means, and knows that I will have to go off to fight it. A tear runs down her little cheek I gently wipe it away and give her one more squeeze.

"I don't want you to go…" she softly whispers so that only I can hear it.

"Listen, don't you waste one second worrying about me, understand? You need to help your parents out and take care of Haymitch. He really looks up to his big sister so you need to be the example." Prim just nods back trying not to cry. "Hey," I say holding up Octavian, "and when this little guy is old enough, he'll also be looking up to his big cousin. He'll need someone to show him around those woods." Prim nods once again before leaning over and gently kissing Octavian on his forehead. "I love you, Kiddo," I say giving her one last hug.

"I love you, too," she says before stepping back over to Katniss' side.

Peeta gives a Lizzy a strong embrace.

"You are welcome in our home, _any time_, you understand?" Lizzy smiles and thanks him for everything he's done for us. He then turns to me and stretches out his hand. I shake it back firmly. "Now, _you_, don't do anything stupid," he says to me with a grin.

"C'mon, Peeta, it's me your talking about."

"That's what scares me." Both of us laugh. Katniss, as usual, saves her goodbye for last. She comes up and looks me dead in the face. I can see tears forming in her eyes. She, more than most, knows some of the hell that lies before me.

"Listen you," she says trying to keep her voice from breaking. "You _fight_. You fight so hard that you come back to us without a scratch. Understand?"

"Yes, Ma'am," is the only response I can muster. Katniss throws her arms around me and squeezes. I feel moisture forming in my eyes as well.

"Be what I know you can be: what you _must_ be," Katniss whispers before letting go and joining Peeta and the kids.

As the Mellarks climb onto the train, Lizzy, Octavian, and I just hold each other. A few minutes later, the electro-turbines engage and the train zooms out of the station towards the east. They are gone. Suddenly, the loudspeaker above makes an announcement.

"_Now boarding on Platform 2, 'The Great Northern,' stops at District 2, District 3, District 7, District 6, District 5, and District 4…"_

I feel a pair of burning eyes watching my back. I turn around to see Johanna and Thom standing at the door of the train and staring straight back at me and Lizzy. Her eyes are filled with a mix of hate and worry like I have never seen before. It really unsettles me, and Lizzy pulls in close.

"Hey, _Snow_!" Johanna yells out across the platform. Suddenly, every set of eyes in the station is looking at us now. "She's the only thing in the world left that I care about! If something happens to her, you're a_ dead_ man!" Johanna whips back around and climbs aboard the train with silent Thom.

"Glad to know I have another fan…" I mutter to Lizzy standing next to me.

"What the hell did she mean by that?" Lizzy asks confused.

"I have no clue…"

"What is wrong with that woman?"

"C'mon, babe," I say turning to her. "It's what you've been studying for years. First, the trauma of the Games, then the Capitol's torture during the Revolution. That could have very easily been Annie…"

"There but by the grace of God…" Lizzy whispers.

"Go I…"

I drop Lizzy and Octavian off at the apartment on my way to the Ministry. She is still on sabbatical for another few months so she has taken to working on her research (or what's left of it after the bombing) from home.

As I arrive at Central Briefing, President Holmes is already waiting with Gale.

"Well, there's one of them!" she yells out angrily. "It seems that despite your promotion your punctuality has not improved…and Captain Flagg's has gotten worse! Do you not understand that we just _declared war_ on another major nation last night?"

"Relax, Ma'am," I say headed toward the coffee maker. "The war's not going anywhere and Panem cannot afford the President to give herself a stroke this early on." I pour two steaming cups; preparing one with my usual two sugars, one touch of cream and prepare the other very sweet with three sugars, no cream. I've worked with Amelia long enough to know how she likes her coffee.

I carry them back to the briefing table and Gale looks at me incredulously.

"Surely, you're not that tired, General Snow."

"No, it's just that Captain Flagg is never late unless she's working on something very taxing. She'll need this when she arrives."

Speaking of the Devil, Amelia barges into Central Briefing, definitely not her normal self. Her perpetually neat uniform is hopelessly disheveled, her hair is starting to frizz, and her eyes are so bloodshot you can see them from across the room.

She nervously drops an arm full of paperwork on the conference table and takes a seat.

"Sorry, sorry," she mutters under her breath.

"Tough night?" Gale asks sarcastically. I slowly slide her cup of coffee in front of her. She looks at it like I had just placed a winning lottery ticket in front of her before picking it up and gulping down half the mug at once.

"Oh Sir…._perfect_."

"I thought you might need that."

"So, Captain Flagg, is there a particular reason you look like you're half dead, or did you just feel the need to sleep under a bridge for no reason?"

"No, Madame President," Amelia begins. "It's just something was bothering me, so I went through the network last night?"

"The whole network?" I say in disbelief

"twice…" Amelia replies.

"There's over a million lines of code!"

"Yeah, it's starts to get really taxing around line 600,000 or so…"

"Why did you do that?"

"Cause I had a hunch. There's only one way that the TEC could have gotten that many aircraft inside Panem airspace without alerting our intelligence networks. _They have an in…_" Amelia punches a few keys, displaying some lines of security code on the holo projector. "And there it is: hidden in plain sight."

"So, what am I looking at?" I ask confused.

"Ohm, Sir, you're looking at Ohm."

"What?" Driva and I say simultaneously.

"It's called a 'tunnel' Amelia begins to explain. Ohm found a weak point in our encryption and got a worm inside our network. Through this tunnel, he can access all the information in our central data banks."

"Then let's get rid of it immediately!" Gale bursts out.

"We don't want to do that…" Amelia says.

"Why the hell not!" President Holmes bursts out.

"Because, Ma'am, a tunnel, like its name implies, is a two-way street. Once established, it means we can do this," she punches a few more keys, and suddenly the interface for the entire TEC security network appears.

"That can't be…" I say stunned.

"Security, surveillance, operations, weapons controls…_everything_…including the location of the kidnapped citizens," the hologlobe displays a location near the Britannic Channel a few hundred miles west of Germania. "And now that we know where Ohm has hacked in, I can control what he's looking at to make sure he can't do any more real damage."

"Amelia, I could kiss you!" I shout out in excitement.

"_Please do…_" she replies without thinking in her sleep-deprived state.

"What?" the other three of us at the table say in unison. Amelia just turns bright red, looks at the floor, and takes another sip of her coffee.

"Outstanding work, Captain Flagg," President Holmes says still grinning. "Now, go home and get some real sleep…._but not with him._ He's married and I really like his wife." Amelia and I both turn red this time. "Go, Captain Flagg." Amelia quickly gathers her notes, gets up, and heads for the hallway. "Now, General Snow," President Holmes continues, "let's get down to the real business of today."

"And that is, Ma'am?"

"I have decided to send a special team to Britannia to make contact with the rebels…"

"Britannia?" I say in disbelief. "Every attempt we've made to make contact with them has ended in failure. We're not even sure who's in charge on that island."

"That's what we're going to find out," President Holmes says. "If we ever want to have any hope of attacking the European mainland, saving our citizens, and bringing an end to this conflict, we have to have a base of operations over there."

"That would have to be one specialized team…"

"Indeed, General, that is why I've ordered the five best Soldiers we have in the Defense Forces assembled here in the Capitol. They will go to Britannia to establish relations, come up with a rescue plan for our prisoners, and then you'll offer the British rebels whatever training and expertise you can to prepare for our upcoming attack on the TEC, which I'm sure they would love to be a part of…"

"Wait, what do you mean, '_me_?'"

"I said the five best Soldiers in the Defense Forces…that _includes_ you."

"Well," I say leaning back in my chair, "I figured I'd be going overseas…I just didn't think it would be so quickly. When do we leave?"

"You'll meet the other members of your team over in the Special Defense Lab this afternoon, you'll have tomorrow to put your personal affairs in order, and then you fly out the next morning. Any questions?"

"Just one…how am I going to tell my wife?"

After the meeting adjourns, I step out into the hall. Amelia is still there waiting for me.

"Sir!" she says running up to me. "I am so sorry, about what I said back there. I wasn't thinking and…" I smile from ear to ear.

"Amelia, it's _okay_…"

"No, Sir, it's not. I mean even though I've had these feelings for years, I always swore that I'd never let them interfere with my work…"

"You've had these feelings for years?" I ask still grinning. Amelia just gets a dejected look on her face.

"I….really should just stop talking now, shouldn't I?"

"That would be a safe bet. Yes."

"I'm sorry, Sir. It's just when I heard that President Holmes was sending you overseas…"

"Wait, you knew before I did?"

"Of course, Sir, it's _me _you're talking to. Who do you think hand selected your team and assembled all of them together on such short notice?"

"Fair enough…"

"Anyway, I became really worried and wanted to do something to help out."

"What do you mean, 'help out?' You help out all the time, Flagg."

"Not, like you, Sir," she says growing more seriously. "I mean, you're a field officer. You actually face real danger. I just sit behind a computer all day pretending to matter…"

"Hold on, right there." I say. "Didn't you just say you 'hand-selected' a team for me in less than a day and then went through a million lines of code twice? Amelia, that's incredible! Over the past few years, you have saved my life with the right information and intelligence more times than I can count. Do I also need to remind you that you were in this building when a bomb exploded upstairs three days ago and you were trapped for the better part of twelve hours?"

"Yes but, I've never actually been in a situation where the decisions I make in that second will be the difference between life and death. _Not like you…"_

"But nothing, Amelia. You are extremely important to everything we do here, and believe me, before this war is over you'll face a situation like that, even though I wish that you didn't have to. I don't wish that on anybody."

Suddenly, she leans forward and kisses my cheek before jumping backwards like a guilty child who stole something.

"Sorry, Sir….I had to do that….and thank you for what you just said. It means a lot."

"Amelia…" I say.

"Yes Sir?" she says excited.

_"Go to bed…"_


	11. Chapter 11

As I expected, Lizzy was not exactly happy with the news that I was deploying overseas. However, she accepted it with same poise and grace that I've come to expect from such an incredible woman.

"Do you know how long you'll be gone?"

"No, baby, it could be for awhile…"

"Define 'awhile.' Weeks? Months?" I take a deep breath over the phone and hear her speak the words that I'm afraid to say. _"Years?" _

"This isn't going to be a short war, Elizabeth." She knows I'm serious. That's the only time I use her full name.

The conversation shifts to what she and Octavian will do while I am gone.

"Octavian's never seen the ocean…I'm glad that he'll get to grow up a little in District 4," Lizzy says trying to sound a little hopeful.

"Me too. Maybe you can even teach him to fish."

"He's a little young for that, even by our standards."

"You never know, he might take to it."

"Ares," she says with her voice full of emotion. I can't really think about how he's gonna spend his first years without you right now." I change the subject.

"Do you want me to call Finnick?" I ask sadly.

"No, I will."

"I'll wire him the money for the train ticket. It's not gonna be cheap on such short notice."

"You know' he'll never accept it. We Odairs don't like to take hand-outs, especially from family."

"I know, but that's not the point. Even if he doesn't take it, be sure you slip him something when he's not looking." Lizzy laughs a little.

"Ok, I've got to go and make the arrangements. Are you gonna be home tonight?"

"Hopefully, I've got to go meet this team that Amelia and Driva put together for me. But, they said we'll definitely have some time together tomorrow before I leave."

"I love you…_General_."

"Oh, so we're using titles now? I love you, too…._Doctor_."

Half an hour later, I walk up to the doors of the temporary Special Defense Lab. It has been set up in one of the secure storage bays beneath the Ministry since the top levels were destroyed by the bombing.

_"Alright, Let's see what we have…" _I think as I walk inside. Three sergeants are waiting for me. The first is a short, skinny man who has the look of District 3 about him. His uniform is acceptable, but still slightly ruffled from constantly climbing into things to fix them. He also has grease perpetually glued under his fingernails. The next sergeant is wearing the armband of a medic. He is tall and slightly stocky. I've come to recognize the grey eyes and olive skin as the seam look from 12. The final sergeant is about my height, with the very dark skin and rounded features of District 6. The patch on his uniform is from LaSalle's battalion at Fort Henry Ford, but he wears the jumpsuit of a hovercraft pilot. I walk up to them and introduce myself.

"Gentlemen, I'm General Snow, Chief of the Defense Forces. You're here because you've been selected for a very special mission. One that could determine the outcome of the war.

In less than forty-eight hours, we will deploy to Britannia to establish relations with the rebels, train them, and mount a rescue effort for our citizens that were abducted. Now, that I've said who I am, why don't we go around the horn and tell each other who we are and what we can do?"

The first sergeant speaks up.

"I'm Staff Sergeant Clint Hightower, ordinance and mechanic corps," he says with a wide, sarcastic grin, "But those who know me call me 'Ratchet.'"

"And why do they do that?" I ask, playing into the ego that I've already inferred is there.

"Because, Sir," he says matter of factly, "I can fix anything."

"Anything?" the sergeant in the flight suit asks suspiciously.

"What can I say? Machines and I seem to get along."

_"Great, another one with 'techno sense,'"_ I think as my mind drifts back to Ohm. "Well, Sergeant, considering the Rebels have been using the same equipment for two-centuries, we'll probably be putting your skills to the ultimate test…"

"I look forward to it, Sir."

"I'm sure you do. Next."

The tall sergeant in the middle speaks next.

"Staff Sergeant Henry 'Doc' Goldflower, Medical Corps. Grew up with my parents working in the pharmaceutical factory in District 12, then decided to become a medic."

"Bringing anything good to Britannia in that aid bag of yours, Doc?" Ratchet asks sarcastically.

"Actually…I prefer to use drugs like morphling as a last resort. Most of the time, they just do more harm to the patient than good."

"Well, I can already tell you're gonna be no fun."

"Enough, Ratchet, let him finish," I say already annoyed with this fellow.

"That's about it, Sir," he says humbly.

"Do you know why they selected you, Doc? I mean the medical supplies we're bringing with us aren't exactly going to be enough for a whole country."

"Well, Sir, I've been reading up on the known plants and herbs of Britannia. Not too different than what we have in 12. I studied the work of Doctor Everdeen considering she's a legend where I grew up. I'm hoping that I can take what they have and really improve their standard of medical care."

"Good," I say sounding hopeful.

"What about us? The third sergeant asks.

"Well," Doc says, "Haven't lost a patient yet in five years as a combat medic, so hopefully that puts your mind a little at ease." It does seem to have an effect as the third sergeant finally introduces himself.

"Staff Sergeant Julius Osprey, call-sign 'Tiller.' I started out as a tank-driver but moved up to hovercraft a few years back. Twelve years of experience driving, flying, whatever. If it needs a pilot or an operator. I'm your man."

"Have any experience on foreign vehicles?" I ask.

"Sir," he says looking slightly indignant. "If it has a way to steer it, I can make it go where I want it to."

"Glad to see your confident…weren't we supposed to have one more?" I ask looking around.

At that moment, the doors fly open and in walks someone we never expected. She looks like she belongs more on a fashion runway in District 1, but her uniform is impeccable. Her long platinum blonde hair is pulled back into a tight bun behind her head but two thin strands frame her soft-featured face: a face which I feel like I've seen before but cannot place. Even though I make it a point to never comment on the physical attractiveness of fellow soldiers, even I have to let the thought slip:

_"She is gorgeous." _

"Sorry, I'm late, Sir," she says in a feminine, yet still gruff voice. "President Holmes wanted to speak to me personally. She really wants me to keep you alive over there."

"Keep _me_ alive." I ask surprised.

"Yes Sir, that's my primary mission besides leading these jokers."

"Leading us?" Ratchet says like he is a little insulted.

"That's right, leading _you_," she says staring him down with her fierce blue eyes. "Sergeant First Class Olivia Sawbleyde."

"Sergeant First Class?" Ratchet continues. "Are you kidding, I think I may have kids somewhere older than you!"

"_It is true_," I think to myself. Sergeant Sawbleyde looks even younger than me. She can't be more than twenty-two.

"What can I say, soldier," she spits back at him angrily. "Excellence knows no age. I'll be the non-commissioned officer in charge of this little expedition whether you like it or not, Grease Monkey. You all will address me as 'Sergeant Sawbleyde' until I say otherwise." She turns back to me. "Except for you, Sir. You can call me 'Hatchet.'"

"Oh no!" Ratchet says angrily. "You can't be 'Hatchet!'"

"WHY THE HELL NOT?"

_ "Well,"_ I think while wincing a bit. _"She can definitely yell like a Sergeant First Class…"_

"Because I'm 'Ratchet!' We can't have a 'Hatchet' and a 'Ratchet' on the same team. That just sounds stupid. Plus, I bet those lovely bits of yours have never seen any real action, right?" He says laughing and turning to the other two sergeants. They awkwardly look down at the ground, not wanting to get involved.

"_Lovely bits?"_ Hatchet says with an artificial simper while she slowly walks over to Ratchet. "_Lovely bits_…HOW'S THIS FOR LOVELY BITS!" In a flash, she reaches down between his legs and latches onto Ratchet's _equipment_ with a vise-like grip. All the men in the group feel his pain in unison as Ratchet doubles over and nearly vomits."Listen here, Grease Monkey, I've been an infantry platoon sergeant with the Alpine Rangers for almost two years. Think I'm not used to forty-swinging dicks slobbering all over me like a bunch of freakin' dogs? I'll tell you the same thing I tell those animals. 'Look all you want, but the second you imply that I can't do my job, _I will end you_.' If you think that just because I have a pair of tits that I can't pull a trigger with the best of them, you're wrong…_dead wrong_. Understand?"

Ratchet manages a nod through his crushing pain.

"On second thought, Sergeant, I think the name 'Hatchet' is very fitting for you and respectfully retract my last statement…" Ratchet says, his face turning bright red.

"Now you get it, Grease Monkey. By the way, enjoy this, because this is the most intimate that you and I will _ever_ get. I want a Redwood, not a sapling." Doc and Tiller hold back laughter. I smile as I say:

"That's enough, Hatchet. You made your point."

"Yes, Sir." She finally lets Ratchet go who collapses to the floor in a heap. Doc walks over and checks him downstairs.

"Don't think they'll be any permanent damage," he mutters. "You certainly know how to make a good impression on the new leadership."

"Shut up, Doc," Ratchet grumbles. I walk over and kneel down next to them.

"Listen here, Ratchet," I say looking at him straight in the face. "I won't have any prejudice or disrespect on this team. If you ever say anything like that to Sergeant Sawbleyde again, I'll let her finish what she started. Get it?"

"Got it, Sir."

"Good." I stand back up and walk up to Hatchet. I look down to her belt and see a throwing axe strapped to her hip. "Is that why they call you 'Hatchet,' Sergeant?"

"No Sir, this is why." She immediately pulls the axe from her belt and launches it straight at a practice dummy over a hundred feet away. The axe lodges dead center in the dummy's face. The rest of us are absolutely floored. "Grew up in 7. Been going into 'the Canada' looking for virgin timber since before I was weaned, and the parents had to teach me how to defend myself against the wildlife. If it moves, _I can kill it_."

"Well, I'm starting to understand why President Holmes trusted you with my life. Your father teach you that little move?"

"My _mother_, actually." It finally clicks who this woman is. I dismiss the rest of the team with instructions to prepare for our departure and not "celebrate" too much, but I keep Hatchet behind to speak to her for a few minutes. When we're alone, I muster up the courage to ask the question:

"Your mother isn't Johanna Mason is it?"

"That she is." She can tell from the nervous look on my face what I am implying.

"Don't worry, Sir, I'm not my mother. I know who you are and am honored to serve under you. I actually volunteered for this assignment. My unit was attached to General Sturm's team when we took back District 2. I was crushed when I saw him go down to those TEC bastards and I swore I would never let that happen again." When the nervous look on my face doesn't completely disappear, she continues, "My mother spoke to you after the declaration about me, didn't she?"

"I didn't quite understand at the time, but I do now."

"What did she say?"

"That if I didn't keep you safe, she'd kill me." Hatchet just laughs. "What's so funny?"

"She should know better than that. My mother raised me to be a lot more lethal than she ever was…"


	12. Chapter 12

I get back to the apartment very late. Octavian is already asleep in his crib. I walk over to the side and quietly lean over to give him a kiss, careful not to wake him. He barely stirs. I find Lizzy, wrapped in a robe, standing in the bedroom. She gazes out the window at the bustling Capitol below. I come up behind her and wrap my arms across her chest. She leans her head back against my shoulder and we just stand there for a few moments feeling each other's warmth.

"Finnick will be here tomorrow afternoon to take us back to 4."

"Gotta love Finnick," I whisper softly. "He's one of the most loyal people I know."

"He said that he 'would burn in hell before he took money from a Snow.'" I laugh a little out loud. Lizzy continues, "I'll be sure to put a couple bills in his wallet."

"Thank you."

"How is the team?" Lizzy asks, still leaning against me.

"The best of the best…." I say. I tell her about Hatchet and the others and she smiles.

"That's going to be an adventure."

"Definitely."

We finally climb into bed together. After a few quiet minutes, Lizzy's hands start moving to key places and she gently kisses my neck in a certain way that sends me a clear message.

"Are you sure?" I ask hopefully.

"Absolutely," she whispers into my ear. Her scent is more intoxicating than ever. "Just don't wake the baby."

Our last evening is _one to never forget. _When we finish, Lizzy falls asleep leaning against me, but I just stare at the ceiling, unable to rest at all. A million thoughts keep running through my mind. What could happen, what it will mean for my family to be apart for so long…

When the first rays of dawn begin to creep through the window, I gently push my way out from underneath Lizzy. I worry for a few seconds that I might have woken her, but soon she rolls over, buries her face in her pillow, and silently continues to sleep.

I tiptoe into Octavian's room. In the miracle of all miracles, he chose last night for his first uninterrupted sleep. I smile as I look down at him, one arm stretched out over his head, sleeping soundly just like his mother.

"_He's so young…" I think to myself. "Will he even remember me if…"_ I've thought about it all night, and I decide to make sure he will. I sneak back into the study, pull a digital tape from the desk, and stick it into the computer terminal. I just stare at the camera on top of the monitor for a few seconds, trying rather unsuccessfully to gather my thoughts, but finally pull together the resolve to hit "record."

"Hello, Octavian," I manage to begin. "If you're watching this, you probably don't recognize who I am. Your mother might have shown you pictures, and told you stories, but in the end, I'm just a stranger to you who died many years ago in a war you hopefully don't remember. I pray that your mother has waited till you're ready to show you this video, but even if you're not, just remember that there was a man once named Ares Snow. He was your father, and he loved you more than life itself.

He didn't leave you and your mother to fight because it was his choice, but that doesn't mean he didn't believe in what he was fighting for. I hope that whatever you have gone through in coping with my loss hasn't clouded that for you. I have faith in your mother that she will instill the importance of what it means to fight for the right thing in you. You come from a long line of Odairs: brave men and women who never let hardship get in the way. However, on my side of the family, there is a little more to tell.

The Snows are a bit of a problem to explain. Our ancestors did some terrible things…things that I hope you will never have to suffer for like I have, but I'm here to share with you a lesson that I didn't learn for many, many years and wish I figured out sooner. _You are so much more than your family's history. _Never, let your name stand in your way. Wear it proudly, because I know you will add a glorious chapter to it with your incredible life. I not only feel that you are destined for something great…._I know it_, and I promise that I will be watching down on you from wherever I end up in the universe. If you need me to guide you, just ask for it, and I will move the planets themselves to find a way to reach you.

Take care of your mother and yourself, my beloved son. You are Octavian Snow…_never forget that_."

I reach over, click the camera off, and pull out the tape. I hold it in my hand for a few seconds, praying that it will never have to serve its intended purpose, but one thing I've learned over my existence is never take a single thing for granted.

I walk back over to the bedroom, place the tape in the pocket of my uniform, and climb back into bed with Lizzy. As she unconsciously senses me next to her, she rolls back over to my side and wraps her warm body around me. Losing myself in her sweet embrace once again, I finally am able to fall into peaceful sleep.

Lizzy and I are finally awoken a few hours later by Octavian's cries. I go to get him ready for the trip while Lizzy takes a shower and begins to pack what few things she has left considering most of our possessions were destroyed by Ohm's bomb. We eat a light lunch before Finnick arrives by cab from the train station in the early afternoon.

"Hey Cos," Lizzy says throwing her arms around him as he walks through the door.

"Finnick, how're you doing?" I say reaching my hand out to him. "Thanks for making the trip on such short notice.

"It's fine," he says shaking my hand back. "I'm used to it, by now."

"Yeah," I say sounding a bit a guilty. "I know you are." Lizzy elbows me in the ribs and flashes a glare in my direction. She doesn't want me spoiling the mood any more than it is already.

Finnick helps me carry the bags downstairs to a waiting taxi. The ride to the station is quiet and a bit awkward. Lizzy does her best to keep things light, telling the latest stories of Octavian's accomplishments to Uncle Finnick who listens to every word like the good man he is. I have an enormous respect for him now as well as the Mellarks. Despite my best efforts to justify the situation to myself, I cannot help but think that other people are doing my job for me because I can't: _keeping my family safe_.

We stand on the platform with a crowd of other families. Some of them are obviously military like us, but many are the wives, husbands, and children of contractors, government employees, and legislators. I look around and soon realize that they are here for the exact same reason we are: they are sending their loved ones away from the Capitol as well. War…real war…is a nasty business and those who remain near the places of power and command will be nothing more to an enemy than targets.

The "Great Northern" pulls into the station with a loud hiss and the conductor calls for all to climb aboard. Finnick reaches out his hand to me this time.

"Ares, Good luck and take care of yourself. I'll be sure to have the lobster pot going when you get back."

"Thank you for everything, Finnick," I manage to smile back. He grabs the bags and climbs aboard. Lizzy is holding Octavian in her arms. He is used to travel by now and doesn't make a fuss. I'm so happy he doesn't realize just how long this separation is going to be. Lizzy stares back at me and tears begin forming in our eyes. We are both brutally aware that this could very easily be the last time we see each other alive.

"Please, Don't cry…" I manage to get out. "If you cry, I'm going to cry and the last thing Panem needs to see is one of her generals babbling."

"Oh forget Panem right now!" Lizzy says losing the battle with her tears. "This moment is ours!" I feel the tears pouring out of my eyes as well and we wrap our arms around each other. I do my best to remember every single detail of this embrace. It will be the last one for a long time.

"All aboard!" we hear the conductor shout down the platform. We finally separate and I kiss my wife and son.

"I love you," Lizzy says firmly. "Now, go fight like Katniss said!" I just nod and reach into my pocket, pull out the tape, and place it in Lizzy's hand.

"Don't let him forget about me. _Promise_." Lizzy's tears grow more intense as she realizes what I just handed her. Without another word, she just turns around and climbs aboard the train.

A few moments later, the sharp blow of a whistle combines with the roar of the engines and the train disappears down the tracks. The crowd around me slowly disappears, but something firmly holds me in place. I just stare off into space with no one to bring me back.

"_I am alone."_

When I finally snap out of my daze, I don't even bother going back to the apartment. It is not my home…my home is where my family is. I head straight to the Ministry and slowly make my way down to the armory. The guard in front of the door seems surprised to see me.

"General Snow, how are you doing today?"

"Just fine," I say without any sincerity.

"I'm sorry things aren't prepared for you. We were briefed that you wouldn't be arriving until tomorrow morning.

"Decided to show up a bit early…."

"Yes Sir…" she says looking a little confused. She quickly pulls out her access card and swipes it across the lock. The giant metal vault releases and slides open. Before I step inside, I turn back to her.

"Soldier…"

"Yes Sir," she says snapping to attention.

"No one enters this vault until I clear them inside. Do you understand?" Despite the quizzical glance she gives me, she quickly responds:

"Yes Sir!" I step inside and the metal barrier slams shut behind me. The darkness is my friend for a few minutes while I gather my thoughts. I need this time alone: sealed in this place of safety and security to change my mindset. I cannot afford to be sad or mournful anymore. The Ares that just put his family on a train cannot be the same Ares that goes to Britannia. That Ares will succeed in nothing but getting good people killed. That Ares has to become _General Snow_.

I reach into the blackness and my hands find the light switches. I flick them on and the bright halogen comes to life, illuminating rack after rack of weapons. I walk down the aisles, grabbing tool after tool of death. The next twelve hours will be spent in the silent meditation of prepping for action: meticulously cleaning, maintaining, and checking and rechecking everything until perfection is achieved.

One might think now that I lied to my son in the recording this morning. That what I said about being "more than your family's history" is something that I don't really believe. For him, it is absolutely true. He is completely innocent. He knows nothing about taking someone else's life, and I hope that he lives a hundred years without knowing that feeling. Even though I want that peaceful existence for him, I know that I am not that fortunate. I will fight the battles that I pray from the bottom of soul that he will forever be spared from. I will go now and do the one thing that I know my life prepared me for…._I will kill_.


	13. Chapter 13

When I walk into the main hangar the next morning, I find Ratchet and Tiller hard at work on a new type of hovercraft I've never seen before. It is narrow and long with boxy corners and the skin of the fuselage is covered with a strange gray materiel.

"So what is up with this thing?" I ask throwing my duffel bags of gear on the ramp.

"Latest and greatest from District 6, Sir," Ratchet says without looking up from an access panel he's taking an oil sample from.

"Prototype stealth hovercraft, designed for long range reconnaissance and infiltration," Tiller says walking toward me. "President Holmes authorized its use considering that we don't want to attract any undue attention from either the TECs or the Brits."

"Does it work?" I ask.

"In Theory…," Tiller says, "but we'll really find out when we try to get through that little air defense net that's been keeping the Brits alive for so long."

"Your confidence is overwhelming…."

Doc enters the hangar next carrying a small bottle of pills and a bottle of water. Ratchet is just finishing up his work when Doc throws them to him.

"Take two now, and then one every two hours while we're in the air."

"Feeling a little under the weather, Ratchet?" I ask.

"Negative, Sir," he says slightly embarrassed. "Just…get a little airsick…sometimes."

"That's a bunch of bull and you know it, Ratch," Doc says laughing. "Don't forget that I was in the hangar when your craft from 3 landed two days ago. Looked like someone spilled a fifty-five gallon drum of split-pea soup in that thing.

"Shut up, Doc," Ratchet mumbles. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Amelia enter the hangar.

"Keep making final preparations and then get the last bit of equipment loaded in the cargo bay."

"_Roger that_, Sir." Ratchet says putting the last of his tools away. I walk over to Amelia. She's definitely in much better shape than she was the day before yesterday.

"Back to normal, I see."

"Thank you, Sir. All it took was about 18 hours wrapped in my favorite blanket."

"Driva not coming to this little farewell?"

"I'm afraid President Holmes was called to a special session of the Legislative Defense Council, but she sends her best, of course."

"What about our own Mr. Hawthorne?"

"Not sure where he is…probably sleeping off a hangover with a woman whose name he can't remember…

"Pity…really looking forward to saying goodbye to him for awhile." Both of us share a laugh.

"Any luck making contact with Brits?"

"No, no response on any channel. It's like they're not even receiving our transmissions."

"More likely they're just not interested." Suddenly, a black uniform pushes past us carrying a large duffel bag.

"Alright, alright," Hatchet yells storming toward the hovercraft. "We have final clearance from Capitol Air Traffic Control which means I want wheels up in less than two minutes. We're already running freakin' behind and I hate being late. Get your asses on the damn bird. As she passes the three other members of the team to climb up the loading ramp, I see the guys all slowly turn to watch her climb up into ship.

_"Speaking of asses…."_ Ratchet whispers to the other two who nod silently in agreement.

"I heard that, Grease Monkey!" Hatchet yells from inside the hovercraft. "You'll pay for that later when we actually have time to spare. Get on the ship."

"Dammit!" he yells reaching down to cup his still sore private parts. He and the other two quickly follow their orders and climb aboard.

I turn to Amelia who is actually glaring in the direction of the hovercraft. I get a large smirk on my face as I realize what she is thinking.

"Captain Amelia Flagg….you aren't _jealous_ are you?" Amelia violently shakes her head back and forth but the guilt in her eyes gives her away.

"No Sir! Why would _I_ be jealous….of her….with her…_confidence_….and her impeccable combat record…and huge…..pair of perfect…" I cut Amelia off.

"Why don't we just say 'perfect hands' and leave it that?" Amelia nods embarrassingly. "I mean you did select her for this mission did you not?" Amelia nods again and pulls a handkerchief from her jacket. She reaches up and polishes the Mockingjay pin on my jacket till it shines bright under the halogen lamps.

"Gotta make a good first impression on the British, Sir. This will be a historic moment after all…" she says trying to change the subject unsuccessfully. I reach down and grab her chin.

"Always taking care of me, aren't you?"

"Kinda my job, Sir…"

"Exactly! That's why you picked her. Because you knew she was the best soldier for the job, and that's all she is…_a soldier doing a job_. Just like you, understand?"

"Yes, Sir." I bend down and give her a quick peck on the cheek. "What was that for?" Amelia asks surprised.

"I think you earned that one." Amelia smiles back.

"Hey Sir!" Hatchet yells from the ramp of the hovercraft. "With the greatest possible respect, if you're done playing _'doctor'_ with a fellow commissioned officer, can you get your ass on the damn bird so we can do this whole _'save the country thing'_ that all of Panem is counting on us for? Thanks, appreciate it," she says before turning back inside the ship.

"I think that's my signal to go," I say to Amelia.

"I think you're right."

"Keep my seat in Central Briefing warm," I say over my shoulder as I walk to the hovercraft. "I won't be gone very long!"

"You got it, Sir!" I climb the ramp into the crew compartment of the hovercraft and take a seat next to Hatchet. Doc and Ratchet sit across from us and Tiller is already up in the cockpit going through startup procedures.

"Who's the mousey Captain, Sir?" Ratchet asks.

"Doc, Punch him please," I say.

"With pleasure, Sir." Doc leans over and hits Ratchet hard in the shoulder.

"Ow! What was that for?" The three of us in the crew compartment respond in unison.

_"For being an idiot!" _

"That was impressive," Doc says.

"Yeah, it was," I mutter. "Easy to get to know each other when you all have to deal with the same problem child."

The ramp closes, the engines rev, and then we lift into the air. Once we clear the hangar doors, Hatchet pulls a large, leather pouch from her jacket. She opens it up, pulls a giant finger-full of chewing tobacco out, and sticks it in her cheek. The other three of us just stare at her in utter disbelief.

"What, you think a little girl like me can't chew?" she says sarcastically before spitting a giant, brown loogie on the steel floor between us. "Both my parents were lumberjacks. What do you expect?"

"That's disgusting, Sergeant," Doc says.

"Bunch of pansies…." Hatchet mutters under her breath.

"Hey, Sergeant Sawbleyde…." Ratchet asks softly.

"What is it, Grease Monkey?"

"Can I get a pinch of that?"

"Have you ever tried this before?" she says holding the pouch up. "Because if you're not used to it, it will make you sick."

"Me? No," Ratchet says trying to sound manly. "I've had it lots of times. In fact, I just forgot to bring my pouch. That's why I'm asking…"

"Alright," Hatchet says skeptically as she hands him the pouch. He opens it up, and winces a bit as the scent hits his nostrils. "Something wrong?" Hatchet asks before spitting on the floor again.

"Oh no, Sergeant. It's just this isn't my usual brand, but I'm good. Really, I'm good." Ratchet reaches into the pouch, pulls out a few leaves, and reluctantly sticks them in his mouth. The puckered expression on his face his priceless as he slowly hands the pouch back to a grinning Hatchet. "Thank….you…."

"You're welcome," she says barely containing her laughter.

"Are you sure you're alright, Ratch?" Doc asks. "You're looking a little green…"

"I'm fine…I'm….oh God!" Ratchet flails out of his straps and runs toward the lavatory in the back of the hovercraft. As we hear him wretch the contents of his stomach into the toilet, the three of us all burst out laughing simultaneously.

A few hours later, we clear the eastern coast of Panem and are over open ocean. Hatchet dims the compartment lighting and tells the guys to get some sleep. She will help Tiller out up in the cockpit. Ratchet is soon snoring away while Doc clicks on a reading light to study what has to be the third medical textbook I've seen him read so far.

I lean back in my seat and find my eyelids growing heavy. After a few futile minutes of fighting, I finally let them close and feel myself drift off…

The sunlight on this beautiful day is glorious. I'm standing on the sandy beach in front of the Odair family cabin in District 4. The breeze carries the sweet scent of the sea air and the sound of the gulls to me. I look toward the waves and see Lizzy leading Octavian into the surf. He has grown so much and is even walking on his stubby toddler legs as Lizzy stands behind him. Octavian's smile is the biggest I have ever seen it and Lizzy laughs as she talks to him about the ocean.

_"He really is an Odair"_ I think to myself. _"He's taken to the sea already."_

I call to them, but neither of them seems to hear me. I shout again, but still no response or acknowledgment. I decide to join them in the water. I run toward them, pulling off my shirt and shoes, but just as I am about to splash into the waves, I freeze. It's like I'm held in place by an invisible hand and despite my brain screaming at legs to walk forward, there are frozen fast.

"Lizzy!" I scream. "What's wrong?" But still she _does not_ answer. Then the water around her and Octavian starts to bubble and boil. Octavian starts to cry and she quickly grabs him up in her arms. She turns to run back to the shore, but is trapped out in the surf as an ice-blue vapor begins to rise around them: _Shiver_. "Run Lizzy! You've got to get away from it!" Still nothing. It's like I don't even exist. _I'm not there to help them_. I reach down and try to pull my legs from the sand, but it is hopeless. I watch in horror as the blue cloud envelops them. I see Lizzy and Octavian both begin to twitch and convulse as Ohm's laughter booms down from the sky….

"NOOOO!" I roar as I bolt awake and slam against my harness. I look around to see that I am still in the troop compartment of the hovercraft. Ratchet and Doc just stare back at me.

"Are you alright, Sir?" Doc asks concerned. "Do you need something to help you sleep?"

"No," I say unbuckling my harness and climbing to my feet. "I've slept enough…"

"What the hell is going on back here?" Hatchet says walking in from the cockpit.

"The Sir just had a…" Ratchet begins before I cut him off mid-sentence.

"Nothing! We're fine," I say flashing him a look that shuts him up. "What's our position, Sergeant?"

"That's what I was coming to tell you. We're approaching Britannia right now."

Ratchet and Doc release themselves from their harnesses and the three of us follow Hatchet to the cockpit. Tiller is still there making adjustments to the controls.

"There she is," Tiller says pointing out the viewscreen at a dark coastline looming about twenty miles in front of us, "The legendary island of Britannia."

"I don't see anything," Doc says confused. "No lights, no buildings…"

"The last thing you want to do while under the constant threat of air attack is to have a bunch of targets lit up at night," Hatchet says back over her shoulder.

"Yeah," I say punching a few controls on the radio, "They're in total blackout,"

_"Unidentified Hovercraft,"_ a strangely accented female voice comes through the radio speakers.

"Sir, what did you do?" Hatchet asks quickly.

"Nothing, I was just trying to find a British frequency."  
>"Well, it seems they found ours first," she says. "I thought you said this thing was supposed to be <em>stealth<em>!" she says yelling at Tiller.

"Well…._mostly stealth_…." He replies.

"What do you mean 'mostly stealth?' They either can see us or they can't!" Hatchet screams.

"Did I mention we didn't get a lot of time to test this before we left?"

_"Unidentified Hovercraft, you have violated the airspace of the Sovereign Island of Britannia. You will immediately alter your course of you will be fired upon."_

"Yeah, they sound really interested in talking…" Ratchet mutters. I quickly key the radio and try to respond.

"Britannia Control, this is General Ares Snow, Chief of the Defense Forces of the United Districts of Panem dispatched directly by President Driva Holmes to speak with your leadership on a diplomatic mission." No response.

Suddenly, our computer announces an audio alert.

_"Warning: Missile Lock. Warning: Missile Lock."_

"So much for diplomacy…." Hatchet says. "So what's Plan B, Sir?"

I look out the viewscreen and see two white streaks rise from the coastline of Britannia and fly straight toward us.

_"Not Again…"_ I think as the moment of impact grows closer.


	14. Chapter 14

It seems Tiller did not exaggerate his skill.

"Hold on to something!" he screams as the rest of us dive to grab onto anything bolted down. Tiller jerks the steering yolk hard while slamming the throttle all the way forward, causing the hovercraft to spin violently in a three-hundred sixty degree barrel roll. The heat-seeking missiles cork-screw trying to continue their track of us, but end up missing the ship by just a few feet. As they explode about two hundred yards behind us, the shock-wave is jarring but ultimately harmless.

"Britannia Control! Cease-fire! Cease-fire!" I scream into the radio. "We are friendly! I say again, we are friendly!" The British coast looms directly on the horizon.

"What's the plan, Sir?" Tiller asks trying to anticipate where the next threat will come from.

"Get us on the ground as soon as possible! If they won't talk on the radio, maybe we can do a face to face."

"Sir, we'll be freakin' sitting ducks down there with our back against those coastal cliffs!" Hatchet tries to counter.

"Just do it!" I scream back. "We're here to talk, not fight. If they want to kill us, then our mission is a failure anyway."

Maybe my message got through to the right people, our maybe the Brits weren't able to fire in time. Either way, we come screaming over the dark cliffs on the British Coast and set down about a hundred yards from the edge. We catch our breath from our near brush with death as Tiller and Hatchet power down the hovercraft.

"So what's next?" Ratchet asks.

"Well," I say trying to sound more confident than I actually am. "Why don't we head outside and take a look around…"

"Alright then," Hatchet says going into combat mode, "Doc, Grease Monkey, head back to the cargo bay and grab weapons…"

"No," I say shaking my head. "No weapons."

"Are you freakin' crazy, Sir?" Hatchet says back.

"_This is a mission of peace_, Sergeant. If we piss them off, all the weapons in the world won't be enough to save us." Hatchet obeys her orders, but I can still tell she isn't at all happy about it. After Tiller shuts everything down, we drop the cargo ramp and carefully take our first steps on British soil.

As we slowly step away from the hovercraft, Hatchet looks over to me.

"So, are we just going to wander the entire island like _Hansel and Gretel_ screaming 'Who's in Charge here?" Before I can even answer her jab, the British answer for me.

A man with an assault rifle leaps out from behind a bush, screams something unintelligible, and out of nowhere, four others with weapons appear and join him. Slowly they surround us.

"Oh boy, oh boy," Ratchet repeats nervously. "Never thought I'd buy it like this."

"Nobody's buying nothing," I say as I raise my hands over my head. "Everybody, hands up…no sudden moves." Ratchet, Doc, and Tiller all obey but Hatchet stands perfectly still.

"Hatchet, what the hell are you doing?" I ask trying to sound as firm but non-threatening as possible. The one that seems to be the British leader walks up to her screaming something else in his mystery dialect. He points his rifle directly in her face.

"Does anyone else understand what this freak is saying?"

"No…" I say keeping my eyes on all the weapons surrounding us, "But I think the fact that they're pointing guns at us is pretty clear…."

"Speaking of that," Hatchet says still completely calm, "I really don't like being almost blown out of the sky, and now having the muzzle of a rifle shoved in my face. It kinda sets me on edge…" she says not breaking eye contact with the leader.

"Hatchet, whatever you're thinking, don't do it!" I say angrily. The leader screams one more thing at Hatchet's face. She just bats her eyes and cocks her head to the side.

"_Hi_," she says like a not-so-innocent schoolgirl, "My name's Olivia, _what's yours_?" This confuses the Brit who relaxes his arms the smallest of amounts. This is just what Hatchet was looking for. In a flash like lightning, she sidesteps, grabs his rifle, and slams it backward into the leader's face. His nose shatters against the butt stock and he goes down to the ground. Hatchet holds onto the rifle and spins it around so it is pointing directly at the other Brits.

"Who else wants some?" she screams out as they nervously point their weapons back at her. Just as I think that Hatchet's antics might have given the TECs another ally in the war against Panem, the sound of a vehicle screaming towards us causes everyone to freeze. A truck comes to a sliding halt and a woman jumps out of the passenger's seat waving her arms.

"Stand down, Sergeant! Stand down!" she shouts in the same unique accent that we heard over the radio. "They're allies." The other Brits immediately drop their weapons. Their leader slowly climbs to his feet holding his bleeding nose. He looks over to Hatchet and sticks out his hand. She sheepishly hands him back his own rifle.

The woman is tiny, and not exactly dressed in a uniform, but the leather jacket she wears does have a lion insignia painted on the back that looks somewhat official. Her skin in the color of café au lait and her hair is jet black, definitely not the same appearance as the other tall-framed, pale-skinned Brits, but they definitely recognize her as someone important.

"Sorry about the misunderstanding, General Snow," she says walking over to me and holding out her hand. "Major Jasminde Bhatnagar, Britannia War Council. I'm in charge of this sector."

"You know me?" I ask shaking hands back.

"Of course," Major Bhatnagar says. We monitor Panem's television transmissions regularly. "Your Declaration of War on the Techies is a major bit of news for us."

"Then why did you try to_ kill_ us?" Hatchet asks angrily.

"Took awhile to get the response from London. Afraid they've been listening to your transmissions for the past three days, but neglected to tell the rest of us that we might want to be expecting you. The Techies try to use deception all the time to slip the defense net. Can't exactly trust a random hovercraft that just appears off the coast. Hope you weren't too inconvenienced."

"Not at all," Hatchet says with a sarcastic smile.

_"I can't believe her,"_ I think laughing on the inside.

"I'd be more worried about him," Hatchet continues as she points to the Brit with the broken nose. "Say, why is it we can understand you, but these guys sound like they're talking with a pair of socks in their mouth?"

"Oh them?" Major Bhatnagar says. "Don't mind them. They're Welsh. Fantastic warriors…not the best speakers." Major Bhatnagar smiles but the leader with the broken nose doesn't seem to find it funny.

"Welsh?" Doc asks.

"Yes 'Welsh,'" Major Bhatnagar says. "That's where you are: Wales."

"Whales?" Ratchet asks, "Like the fish?"

"No, _Wales_," Major Bhatnagar says.

"That's what I said, Whales, like the fish," Ratchet says looking at Doc.

"No, you idiot! Whales are _mammals_, not fish," Doc replies.

"It has nothing to do with any bloody fish!" Major Bhatnagar shouts at Ratchet before turning to Doc, "or bloody mammals!"

"Why are they bloody? Was somebody hunting them?" Tiller asks curiously. Major Bhatnagar just turns to the Welsh.

"Are all people from Panem this stupid?" The Welsh just shrug back.

"Enough!" I shout. "Major, is there any way we can get to this 'London' you're talking about?"

"Absolutely, come with me," she says turning back toward her truck. The five of us begin moving, but then Hatchet turns back to the other three sergeants.

"Not so fast," she says. "You three: stay with the hovercraft and guard it. I want one of you up at all times and make sure the ship stays ready to move. Understand?" Ratchet, Doc, and Tiller all groan but do what they're told. Hatchet and I climb into the back of Major Bhatnagar's truck and are soon zooming across the Welsh countryside, though neither of us can see much of it. It is pitch black, and the driver uses night vision glasses to avoid turning on his headlights.

About ten minutes later, the truck pulls up in front of a large stone manor house, illuminated only by the moonlight. The driver brings the truck to a stop and three of us get out. Major Bhatnagar leads us through the ancient looking timber doorway and inside to a wood-paneled hallway lit only with oil lamps and candles.

"Well, this is interesting…very _old-fashioned_" Hatchet mutters under her breath.

"It's how we like it here," Major Bhatnagar says back to her. "Technology is for fighting. This is for _living_." I look up to see the same lion symbol that was on the back of Major Bhatnagar's jacket painted on the wall.

"Is that the symbol of Britannia?" I ask curiously.

"You really don't know much about us, do you?" Major Bhatnagar replies. "The lion has been the symbol of Britain for as long as any of our ancestors could remember, even before the wars three centuries ago when this country was still ruled by a monarch." She starts walking up the wooden staircase in the center of the hall and motions for us to follow. She leads Hatchet and me upstairs to what must be her office. We walk inside and are met with the same mismatch of modern and ancient together. There is a large fire burning at a stone hearth, candles light the room, but three computers rest on her desk. She takes a seat behind them and gestures for us to sit down as well.

"Can I offer you both some tea?"

"Sure," I say. Hatchet nods. Major Bhatnagar pulls a kettle from the hearth and pours a strange yellowish liquid into three mugs. She passes the brew to me and Hatchet and we both take a sip. I find it extremely bitter and unpleasant but Hatchet drains half her mug almost instantly.

"How do you like it?" Major Bhatnagar asks.

"It's….not quite like any tea I've ever tasted."

"_Pine needles_…" Hatchet says. I look at her confused. "Pine Needle Tea: I grew up drinking this. Full of good Vitamin C."

"What else did you grow up doing?" I ask her. Hatchet just grins back.

"Yes, unfortunately with the Techie blockade, the real stuff is pretty rare," Major Bhatnagar explains. "If you don't like it, you don't have to finish it, General. You won't hurt my feelings."

"Nonsense," I say continuing to sip from the mug and doing my best to hide my dislike. "Major, you said you could get us to London soon?"

"I can do you one better. I'll clear the airspace for you so you can fly your hovercraft there in the morning. I'll give the directions to your pilot. Shouldn't be more than a half hour flight for you."

"Is London your capital?" Hatchet asks.

"I guess you could call it that. We don't really have 'a capital.' The British tribes rule themselves but each sends a representative to the War Council in London to discuss our mutual defense. The only reason I'm here is that the Welsh asked for extra help guarding this sector, but I would have to leave as soon as they demanded it."

"Do you have a leader? One person we could talk to who represents all Britannia?" I ask.

"He's really more like a 'first among equals' but the person you need to talk to is Angus McFadden, Chief of the War Council. His voice will carry the most weight."

"And he'll be the one to decide if Britannia will join Panem in the war against the TEC?" Major Bhatnagar starts laughing at Hatchet. "Just what is so funny, Ma'am?" Hatchet asks.

"My Dear Girl," Major Bhatnagar says to Hatchet. "Britannia has been at war with the TEC for centuries! What you need to convince Chief McFadden of is letting Panem _join us_."

"And you can have the airspace cleared by tomorrow morning?" I ask. There is a knock at the wooden door.

"Enter," Major Bhatnagar says. A young man opens the door and walks over to her desk with a piece of paper. Major Bhatnagar reads it and then dismisses him.

"I'll have the airspace cleared for you _immediately_," she says. "This is a message from Chief McFadden, himself. He knows you've landed and wants you in London now."


	15. Chapter 15

The sun is just rising as we pull back up to the hovercraft.

"Well, that didn't take long…" Tiller says as we hop down from Major Bhatnagar's truck.

"Spin her up," Hatchet says gathering the men together and herding them aboard. "We're going to London."

"Where's that?" Ratchet asks curiously.

"No clue," Hatchet says as she climbs the ramp. I turn back to Major Bhatnagar who hands me a folded piece of paper.

"Coordinates to the landing zone outside of the War Council," she says. "The airspace will only be cleared for the next hour, so don't doddle too much." I take the paper and shake her hand one more time.  
>"Thank you for all your help, Major."<p>

"Just doing my job, Sir. If you really want to thank me, then help us give those Techies a good walloping once and for all."

"I'll do what I can." She smiles and heads back to the truck. I board the hovercraft and head for the cockpit. I take the co-pilot's seat and hand the paper to Tiller.

"Well, at least their pilots speak the same language as us," he says looking it over.

"Can you get us there in an hour?"

"Shouldn't be that long at all, Sir, why?"

"Cause in sixty minutes, we go back to being a target…" Tiller gets a suspicious look on his face.

"I thought they said we were allies."

"_We are_. I don't want to see how they'd treat us if we were enemies."

The hovercraft gently lifts into the morning air and we fly off east into the rising sun. As I finally get the chance to see what this new land looks like, my breath is taken away by its beauty. Green fields filled with grazing livestock are broken only by stretches of lush forest. We fly over tiny thatched country villages with black coal smoke rising from stone chimneys that appear to be lost in centuries past. Unfortunately, the reminder of the war is ever present as modern anti-aircraft batteries and missile sites stick up from camouflaged positions every few miles.

"Haven't tried to kill us yet," Hatchet says. "Guess that Major was telling us the truth."

"What is it with these Brits?" Ratchet asks from behind me.

"They obviously have the technology to live a really comfy life, but instead they act like they're in the dark ages…"

"I completely understand," says Doc. "Growing up in 12, we knew what was out there, but we were never happier than when it was just our families gathered around the fireplace cooking dinner in an iron pot. _Living without distractions._ Let's you know what's really important. Understand?"

"No…" Ratchet says back.

"Figures you wouldn't get it…" Doc mumbles.

"You know, I'm getting really tired of people acting like I'm stupid. I'm actually really smart! I've got two degrees in mechanical engineering and…"

"Ratchet!" Hatchet yells.

"Yes, Sergeant Sawbleyde?"

"Shut up…"

"Yes, Sergeant Sawbleyde…" I hold back laughter again as I continue to gaze out the viewscreen. Soon, we come to a river and begin to follow its course to the east.

"According to the instructions that Major gave you, Sir, this London place should be right along this river about fifty miles ahead," Tiller says without taking his eyes from the controls. Suddenly, the proximity alarm sounds and two attack hovercraft slowly pull to either side of us.

"Where the hell did they come from?" Hatchet asks angrily.

"Guess we need to test the radar on this thing a little better as well…" Tiller says.

"You think?"

_"UDP Hovercraft," _a voice sounds from the radio. _"This is London Skyguard. We have orders to escort you to the Tower. Acknowledge."_

"Roger, London Skyguard, this is General Snow. I acknowledge…but what is the _'The Tower?_'"

_"The Tower is where War Chief will receive you. Just follow us."_

We continue to trail the British hovercraft until we come into sight of London.

"Finally! A city…._sort of_." Ratchet exclaims. London is definitely a city alright, but not like anyone we have in Panem. It is an ocean of stone and mortar with thatched roofs that stretch for miles in either direction. A forest of black smoke trails rise from thousands of chimneys resulting in a shimmering haze that glitters in the sunlight. Cobblestone streets are crowded with thousands of people bustling to their early morning appointments. They barely seem to take notice of us: odd considering how few outsiders come to this island. The British hovercraft drop low and skim the water of the river. Tiller follows.

Along the riverbank in front of us, we see a massive stone structure crowned with four domed towers and completely surrounded by a crenulated stone wall. Despite this building's ancient appearance, the walls are bristling with anti-aircraft guns and missile pods peak out from all four domes. The British hovercraft peel away and Tiller sees an illuminated landing pad just inside the outer wall. He masterfully brings the hovercraft down right on target.

We drop ramp and disembark. As we take in our strange surroundings, Hatchet leans over and whispers in my ear:

"Sir, this place is really starting to freak me out." An entourage of ten people appears from the central castle and walks toward us. The group is led by a huge man with broad shoulders. Even though he is bald, he sports a massive red beard. Across his chest, he wears a plaid wool sash with a golden lion pin that glistens in the sunlight.

"Just stay cool, Hatchet, and follow my lead," I whisper back to her. The bearded gentleman stops directly in front of me. I am not a short man, but he still towers a full head above me.

"We've been expecting you," he says in an accent completely different than the other ones we have heard. Ratchet leans over to Doc and whispers:

"How many ways of talking do they have on this tiny island?" Doc just shrugs back.

"Angus McFadden," the bearded man says extending a massive hairy hand, "Chief of the War Council of Britannia. And you must be…"

"General Ares Snow, Chief of the Defense Forces of the United Districts of Panem." I grab his palm and his fingers close around my hand like a vise. I cannot help but wince a little bit until he lets go.

"Welcome to London," Angus says. "Follow me," he says turning and heading back toward the central castle. "I hope you had a pleasant trip so far, General."

"It was great until your missiles tried to blow us out of the sky," Hatchet says. I flash her a look but it does nothing to dissuade her, as usual.

"Aye," Angus says unconcerned. "It's means our air defenders are still doing their job. I'm sorry, but the Techies don't exactly make life easy here for us." As we enter the massive gate of the central castle, Angus continues. "I've called the whole War Council to Tower to address exactly how to deal with you all."

"To Tower, Sir?" Tiller aks.

"Aye, _To Tower_, you're in the Tower and the Tower is where the War Council has always met."

"Why do they call it _'the Tower?'_" Ratchet asks. "Looks like a storybook castle to me…"

Angus laughs a little but responds anyways.

"Because, Laddie, It's _always_ been called the Tower…"

"We've noticed that you seem fond of tradition here," I say trying to sound kind.

"Aye, the ancient wars destroyed this whole country. There was hardly two pieces of wood still nailed together or two bricks still mortared. When we rebuilt it, all the tribes agreed to live simply and try not to outpace their neighbors. All that leads to is jealously and competition. Our weapons are the only things we keep fancy, and those only because we have to. London is neutral and under direct control of the War Council. It may look old-fashioned, but trust me, it's got some surprises."

We round a corner and come face to face with a gigantic wooden door. Two guards salute and grab the handles.

"Ready?" Angus asks.

"Ready for what?" I respond. He just smiles and nods to the guards. They throw open the handles and Angus walks right in.

"THE WAR CHIEF!" A voice booms from inside the chamber. The only sound heard is the simultaneous snap of a several hundred people rising to their feet at once. Angus beckons us to follow and we walk into a massive indoor hall with benches on three sides piled with Councilors in a hundred different manners and modes of dress ranging from the simple to the extravagant. Angus takes a seat in a wooden throne near the center of the room and motions for us to sit at a bench on his left side. The five of us nervously obey as hundreds of eyes burn into us.

"My Right Honourable Councilors, Pray be seated," Angus says. Everyone sits calmly as Angus begins.

"Councilors, Seated to my left, are emissaries from the United Districts of Panem. As we have heard in their transmissions, which I remind the Councilors seated here that we voted on four separate occasions to _ignore_," he says glancing in my direction, "the nation across the sea has joined the war against the TEC and seeks an alliance with us." At these words, the chamber erupts in a massive roar of shouts and yelling. Angus bangs a wooden stick on the stone floor to restore order. "An alliance! Which will benefit both our nations in bringing an end to the threat of the Lawgivers and their TEC once and for all!"

"How can the Right Honourable War Chief expect us to believe that? How does this benefit Britannia!" A man jumps up from a back row, pointing his finger at us. "Panem just wants to use us to meet their own ends. All an alliance will succeed in is bringing about an end to our sovereignty, our independence, and our way of life!"

"Here Here!" echoes through the whole chamber, but a few others shout back across the room in opposition.

"How can the Right Honourable Councilor say that?" Another councilor jumps to her feet. "We can barely survive in this fight any longer. Our resources grow fewer and fewer while the TEC with the help of Panem's traitor only grows stronger! It won't be the Panem folk that end our culture. It will be the Techies!" More yelling and shouting. I can't hear myself think in this place.

_"How can this be a way to run a government?"_ I ask myself before leaning over to Angus. "May I talk to them?" I shout over the fray.

"In a little while, General," He says. "It's part of the process here. They have to tire themselves out first."

Unfortunately, that never comes. Alarms begin echoing through the chamber.

"Air Attack!" Angus screams through the fray. As if they have rehearsed it a thousand times, the entire chamber clears in less than a minute.

"What's going on?" Hatchet asks anxiously.

"Nothing to worry about, Lassie," he says. The Techies get through to London every few weeks trying to rile us up. They're all headed to the bunkers till it's all…

_"BOOM!"_ A massive explosion echoes through the hall. A window shatters sending shards of glass falling onto empty benches.

"That's normal?" I ask skeptically.

"No, that's not!" Angus shouts. "Come with me…" We follow him out a back door and down a flight of stairs. He wasn't kidding about London's hidden secrets. Directly beneath the ancient stone Council Hall is a modern command center very similar to Central Briefing back in the Capitol. "Status!" he shouts to the attendants.

A British Soldier answers from behind a computer screen. A computerized map of London is displayed on a giant screen next to him.

"Massive TEC air assault, Sir. They've got three squadrons through the coastal batteries and are all pushing directly on London. It's a good bet that they've found out the General from Panem and his team are here…"

"Bloody Hell," Angus mutters. "We've got to get you all to the bunkers…"

"To Hell with that!" Hatchet shouts. "I'm here to fight, not hide." Just as Angus is about to argue, I jump in.

"It's true, Chief. We're not gonna inspire a lot of hope hiding underground." Angus just gets a defeated look on his face.

"Have you ever fired an anti-aircraft gun before?"

"Once or twice, but I'm a fast-learner…"

"Sergeant," Angus says without breaking eye-contact with me. "Show the General to the Towers…"

"Yes Sir!"

"Tiller!" I shout. "Take Ratchet and get back to the hovercraft. Grab what supplies and weapons you can and get to cover. That thing is a massive target out there. If we lose it, I don't want to lose everything."

"Moving!" The two of them disappear back outside.

"Doc, Get with the guys in here and try to help out with their casualties."  
>"On it, Sir,"<p>

"Hatchet, you're with me." The two of us follow the Sergeant up the stone steps of the Tower to the walls. We find Brits already furiously firing away into the sky. TEC Attack Hovercraft are circling wildly only a few hundred feet up. The entire sky of London is lit up with tracers and flak as a thousand anti-aircraft positions spread out in all directions engage the angry swarm. The TECs are taking extreme casualties, but continue to press the suicidal attack.

Suddenly, a hovercraft appears from the north and strafes the wall facing the river. The defenders fall beneath the hail of gunfire leaving that side of the Tower undefended. I motion to Hatchet and we run over to a pair of vacant heavy machine guns.

"Ever fire one of these before?" I ask her.

"Nope," she responds.

"It's real easy," I say. "Just point it at the enemy and don't stop shooting until he blows up."

"Got it."

We begin scanning the sky and don't have to wait long. A TEC attack hovercraft screams downward toward us from across the river. Hatchet takes aim, fires, but only grazes him. As the ship bolts to the right, I line him up in my sights and pull the trigger. The Techie explodes into a fireball and crashes into the water below.

"You wouldn't have gotten him if I hadn't have helped," Hatchet says with a grin.

"Sure, keep telling yourself that." Hatchet doesn't take long to redeem herself. Another TEC hovercraft crosses her line of fire and she pulls the trigger, blowing off one of his stabilizers. The enemy begins spinning out of control and tumbles to the ground on the other side of the river.

"Don't they know how much of a waste this is?" She screams to me.

"That's not the point," I shout back. "They're trying to send us a message!"

"Well, I've got a message for them too!" She says blowing another TEC to pieces.

And so the attack rages for about another ten minutes, Hatchet and I score kill after kill, bringing a lot of shouts of approval from the other British defenders on the walls with us. Finally, the battered TECs withdrawal to the southwest. We look out on the London cityscape. It's intact but not unscathed. Several buildings are engulfed in flames and plumes of smoke darken parts of the sky.

"Nicely done," a familiar voice sounds from behind us. Angus walks out and joins us on the wall. "You've shown the Councilors you can fight. They'll respect you more, now."

"How many casualties?" I ask him.

"Reports are still coming in, but it looks to be only in the dozens. Your medic is being very helpful down in Command helping to arrange the evacuations. I'm impressed."

"_Only_ _in the dozens_?" Hatchets says slightly appalled at his apparent apathy.

"Aye, Lassie," he says with a sorrowful nod. "They'll be mourned, but believe me, we've seen much worse here. It's what we lived with since the time of my grandfather's, grandfather's, grandfather. It's what we live with _every day_."


	16. Chapter 16

Doc, Tiller, and Ratchet are waiting for us back in the command center when we come down from the walls.

"How's the hovercraft?" I ask nervously.

"It picked up a ricochet or two," Ratchet says without any concern, "but nothing I can't patch up in an about an hour or so." I turn to Angus.

"Do you have a hangar we could put our ship in so it isn't quite so exposed?"

"Do we have a hangar?" he says with a sly grin. "Come with me." We follow him out a back door of the command center and down a long sterile hallway.

"This place is just full of surprises…" Doc says trailing off. Angus proudly points to doorway after doorway describing what each room holds. "Small Arms, Heavy Weapons, Explosives Vault, Communication Equipment, Cryptography, and last but not least…." At the very end of the hallway is a large pair of sliding doors, "_The hangar_…" He presses a button and the doors slide open. We walk inside and look down several hundred feet to the floor below. My first impression is that somebody buried the Capitol Memorial Sports Stadium underground. Lined up in perfect rows, are hundreds of hovercraft ranging from small fast attack models up all the way to huge transport ships.

"Wow…" Ratchet manages to mutter. "This place got a maintenance bay too?" He asks.

"Of course, and you're free to use it to fix up yer vessel." Angus replies.

"Just how the hell are we supposed to get the ship down here?" Tiller asks staring up at the solid ceiling. Angus walks over to a control panel and presses a button. A voice on the intercom answers.

_"Yes, Sir?"_

"Maggie, bring the Panem hovercraft down to the main hangar."

_ "Right away, Sir."_

"But how is that even possible?" I ask until I'm interrupted by a loud whirring sound. A huge door on the ground floor opens up and less than thirty seconds later, our hovercraft appears safely in the hangar bay.

"Most marked landing pads in London are linked to this hangar," Angus explains. There is a network of underground tunnels and elevators that allow us to move ships all over the city rapidly without being seen. Helps confuse the Techies."

"Well, that little feature would have been nice to know about when the firefight was going on!" Tiller says a little annoyed.

"Sorry, slipped me mind. Had more important things to worry about."

"Chief McFadden…" I say before he cuts me off.

"Angus, General please."

"Very well, _Angus_," I continue, "Would it be possible to get the War Council back together? We still have much to discuss." Angus looks at his watch.

"Not today, I'm afraid."

"Why? It's barely the afternoon!" Hatchet says.

"It's Friday, Lassie, _Gambols Night_."

"Gambols night?" I ask confused.

"A little tradition we have in London, General. Once a week, we gather to forget the troubles in food and drink. Let's us smooth out any hostilities between the tribes, mourn our losses, and live a little bit before the next battle. Nothing gets done in London after mid-day Friday." Hatchet appears frustrated, but I try to be optimistic.

"So, you're saying they'll be a party?" I ask thinking it could be a good chance to bond with our hosts.

"Oh _yes_," Angus says in a way that makes me think his definition of "party" and mine could be very different. "I spend every Gambols at _The Three Foxes_, it's a tavern only a few streets away, and speaking of that place, now that we've taken care of lodging for yer ship, we need to take care of it for you all as well."

After we've grabbed our personal belongings from the hovercraft, Angus sends the five of us with one of his assistants down to _The Three Foxes_ with assurances he will join us once Gambols officially starts at sundown. Apparently, the War Chief has a lot of pull in this place, because no sooner had we appeared in the door, the innkeeper, an older graying woman named Mrs. Marbury gave us the three largest rooms she had.

As she slowly leads us up the creaking timber staircase from the main dining room, Hatchet taps my shoulder. I lean over and she whispers in my ear.

"So we're just going to trust the red-headed giant? How do I know this sweet little old woman with hips that look she gave birth to half this city won't slit my throat as I sleep?" I realize I don't have an answer for her and I admit to myself, we're taking a lot of this faith.  
>"We don't really have a choice, I'm afraid. Just sleep with one eye open." Hatchet just rolls her eyes.<p>

Mrs. Marbury takes us to the end of a hallway with three doors and quickly explains our sleeping arrangements. I will have the middle room to myself since I am the most senior leader. Hatchet will have the room to the left since she is a woman and in Mrs. Marbury's words, "It just wouldn't be proper for a young lady to be sharing a space with three gentlemen," and much to the chagrin of the other three, they will share the third room.

As Mrs. Marbury opens their door, Doc pushes past the other two and sets his duffel down on the only single bed. Ratchet and Tiller are left to fight over a pair of bunk beds in the corner.

"I get bottom bunk!" Ratchet says trying to put his bag down first, but Tiller just pushes past him.

"Like hell you do, Little Man." A disheartened Ratchet can only throw his duffel on the top and say in a defeated whisper.

"I get top bunk…."

Hatchet walks into her room and turns to me.

"I'll see you at whatever the hell this party is in a few hours, Sir."

"Gonna take a nap?"

"Hardly…" she says before slamming the wood and wrought iron door in my face.

"She's a firecracker, isn't she?" Mrs. Marbury says to me.

"You have no idea…"

My room is small but not uncomfortably so. There is a single old-fashioned wooden canopy bed in the corner with a mirror and washstand next to it.

"_No running water,"_ I think to myself. _"Well, this will be interesting."_ I drop my bag next to a large wardrobe and walk over to the washstand. As I look at myself in the mirror, I realize I need to shave badly. I pour some water from an earthenware pitcher into the basin and do my best in the lukewarm water not to slice my face to ribbons. After only slightly better than marginal success, I lay down on the bed and stare up at the ceiling. The cool linen of the sheets feels good against my skin, and in a few seconds, I am out.

Mercifully, there are no nightmares this time. I am awoken by the sounds of a crowd and boisterous laughter coming from downstairs. The sun has gone down and the room is completely dark. I manage to fumble around and find a candle with a box of matches next to it.

In the flickering flame, I dress myself in a clean uniform and carefully attach the Mockingjay pin. The effect of the candlelight on the gold is dazzling and I cannot help but think of the "Girl on Fire," who gave it to me.

I walk down the creaking wooden staircase and into the dining room. The large white-washed empty space has been transformed into a whole different world than what it was a few hours before. A huge fire burns in the stone hearth at the far end of the room. Dozens of candles give the place a warm, orange glow. Faces line every wall and pack every table, many of which I recognize from the Council Chamber earlier today. Apparently, Angus isn't the only important Brit that frequents the _The Three Foxes_ on Gambols Night.

Mrs. Marbury is behind the bar, handing out tankard after tankard of a mystery beverage. I push my way over and gladly accept one.

"Hope you like it, _Deary_," she says handing me the vessel with a smile. I look down to see a strange brew that appears to be some kind of beer. It smells terrible and tastes like warm soapy water, but I can tell its at least strong stuff.

Ratchet, Doc, and Tiller have already joined the festivities, and are taking in each other's company against a wall on the other side of the room. I wander over to them.

"Enjoying yourselves?" I ask taking a sip of my tankard.

"This Brits sure like to party," Ratchet says looking out at the crowd.

"Too bad the only stuff to drink is this…" Tiller says staring down at his mug.

"I don't know," Doc says taking another sip. "I kinda like it."

"You would, _Herbal Herbie_," Ratchet says disdainfully. Doc just shrugs it off.

"Where's Hatchet?" I ask curiously.

"Don't know, Sir," Tiller says. "We knocked on her door, but she told us she would be down when she felt like it…"

"Oh…my…..holy…." Ratchet says, his jaw dropping to the floor. We look across the room and our jaws join his. Gracefully making her way down the staircase is Hatchet, but this isn't the hardened gruff Sergeant that we all know. She glides down the steps in black heels. Her long blonde hair is down and elegantly flows over her shoulders, and her short black dress hugs her body revealing more than a little bit of cleavage.

"That cannot be the same Sergeant Sawbleyde that nearly castrated you two days ago," Tiller says.

Hatchet walks over to the bar and requests a beer. Mrs. Marbury is obviously not used to seeing anyone dressed like Hatchet is, but ever the gracious hostess, hand her the drink with a smile. Attracting the gaze of every man in the room, Hatchet walks over to the fireplace and strikes up a conversation with a group or random Brits.

"Does she know what the hell she's doing?" Ratchet yells out in utter shock.

"I think she knows exactly what she's doing," I calmly reply after taking a sip of my beer. "Sergeant Sewbleyde must realize that sometimes the most dangerous weapon in the world is a woman in the right little black dress."

"Amen," Doc says.

After about another hour or so of food and beer, The front door flies open and in walks Angus, dressed to the nines in a fine wool suit. The whole _Three Foxes_ erupts in cheers as he walks in and immediately stands up on a table waving his arms. Someone magically produces a full tankard which they hand up to him. One more wave of his hand, and the room falls silent. He raises his drink high in the air.

"To our Fallen!" he says solemnly.

"To our Fallen," the room echoes. After everyone takes a drink, Angus continues.

"Tonight, we celebrate life. We celebrate our freedom! We celebrate the love of good friends and family. We celebrate the victory we hope to one day give our children, and we celebrate _hope for tomorrow_….In the words of the anthem that my father taught me, taught to him by his father, and taught to him by his father…._Britons never never never shall be slaves!"_

"Britons never shall be slaves!" The room echoes back.

Angus steps down from the table and I make my way over to him. He dismisses a few other Councilors and beckons me over to a quieter seat in the corner of the room.

"How do you like yer beer?"

"Honestly?" I reply.

"Aye."

"Tastes like shit." Angus just bursts out laughing.

"It is a bit of an acquired taste, I admit."

"This blockade must be hell."

"What do you mean?"

"The beer," I say pointing to my tankard.

"Laddie, we go without a lot, but beer is one thing we don't skimp on. That's the same bitters that Brits have been having for a thousand years."

"You mean it's _supposed_ to taste like this?" Angus laughs again and we move on. "It's hard for me to wrap my head around a party going on like this considering so many died today."

"You see them," Angus says pointing to a man and woman seated at a table and enjoying a game of cards. "Recognize them?" he asks. I do, they are the two Councilors who were arguing today in the chamber. "That's why we do this. Because we fight like hell in the day, but when the sun goes down, we all become mates. We drink, laugh, _love_, and celebrate life because in Britannia, you never know which day will be your last."

"That's a beautiful thought, Chief," I say trying to not dampen the mood too much, "but I'm running out of time. The TECs are holding almost two thousand Panem citizens hostage. I have to find a way to rescue them."

"With who?" Angus asks me with a glare.

"Well, I was hoping _you_ would help us…" I say.

"Laddie, we'd need an army to go after the Techies, _and an army we don't have_."

"I've got to do something, dammit!" I say sounding a bit too angry and frustrated.

"Don't think about it tonight, Laddie. Trust me, an answer will come to you when you least expect it." He gets up and goes to drink with another group of Brits. Soon, all of them are loudly singing an old folk song about loving a woman and then getting drunk with her. I sit alone staring down at my drink. After a few failed attempts to finish it, I walk back over to my men.

"Where's Ratchet?" I ask when I notice he's missing. Doc and Tiller just point. I look over to a far corner. Hatchet and Ratchet are wrapped up in each other's arms, kissing passionately in the candlelight.

"_Well, that is entirely unexpected…"_


	17. Chapter 17

Early the next morning, I stand with Angus in the Tower Command Center. Despite the wild surprises of last night, I had enough thought about me to get him to agree to try this as Angus was walking out the door. By the time I came back to the party, Hatchet, Ratchet, and the others had disappeared. I didn't want to know any details at that point and left word with Mrs. Marbury for them to come join me here when they woke this morning.

"How much longer, Maggie?" Angus asks one of the technicians.

"A few more minutes, Sir," she replies. "Have to get the atmospheric bounce just right on the transmission." One of the most crippling side effects of the ancient wars was the loss of so much useful technology. In addition to high-flying airplanes and long-range rockets, the warring nations also shot down each other's satellites from orbit in an attempt to gain a strategic advantage. All that really ended up happening was sending telecommunications back a few centuries. Without satellites, the only way to send a transmission around the globe now is with a carefully calculated radio wave that bounces back and forth from the atmosphere, to the surface of the earth, and back again and only the most extremely skilled operators can achieve it. Luckily, Angus and me both happen to have one in our respective command centers.

While Maggie still continues to work on her calculations, Tiller and Doc come in and sit down at the far end of the briefing table.

"Where's Hatchet and Ratchet?" I ask suspiciously.

"Negative Knowledge, Sir," Doc says.

"Didn't Ratchet ever come back to your room last night?" The two of them answer only with telling glances. "_No…_" I say with shock and surprise. "Hatchet _and_ Ratchet?"

"The two of them seemed pretty intent on keeping each other's company last night, Sir. They disappeared upstairs not long after the little exchange you saw," Doc says with a large grin.

"I've seen stranger things, Sir," Tiller adds, "but not by much."

"I'm used to soldiers in the same unit sharing things, General," Angus says jumping into the conversation, "But is it normal in Panem for two Soldiers in the same unit to be sharing the same _bed_ with each other?"

"Not quite," I say a little embarrassed. "I may have to have a talk with Sergeant Sawbleyde…"

"I think I have it," Maggie says not paying attention to the rest of us. I walk up to the large screen posted against the wall on the far side of the room.

"Patch us through if you can," I say. The screen comes alive with static before slowly clearing into an image of Central Briefing back in the Capitol.

"It's good to see you again, Sir," Amelia says with a large smile. She is sitting at her same spot at the conference table.

"Good to see you too, Captain Flagg," I say back to her. "Thanks for staying up so late for us.

"Oh, it's really nothing, General Snow," President Holmes says walking into frame and taking a seat next to Amelia. "I don't get much sleep anyway since this war started. How's Britannia?" She asks with a grin.

"Different. Still getting used to things, but definitely could learn to love it here…well, everything except for the beer. Don't think I'll ever be a fan."

"Drink choices aside, General, have you made any progress in establishing relations with the British government?"

"Ma'am, I would like to introduce you to the Chief of the War Council of Britannia, Angus McFadden," I say gesturing over to Angus who walks into view.

"President Holmes, it is a pleasure to finally meet you," he says like a true politician. "I'm a big fan of your leadership."

"Oh really?" President Holmes asks surprised.

"Apparently, Panem's television broadcasts are very popular viewing in Britannia," I say trying to explain.

"In that case, Chief McFadden," President Holmes says diplomatically, "I am very grateful for your kind words. I just apologize that I'm not as aware of your nation as you are of ours."

"It's quite alright, Madame President," Angus says still being a perfect gentleman. "We like to keep it that way."

The two of them then proceed to give each other a brief history lessons on their respective terms as leaders and the chain of events that has led to the mutual desire for the TEC's destruction. Unfortunately, the sticking point continues to be the establishment of a full alliance.

"You see, Madam President, Britannia barely has the forces available to maintain her own defense much less help mount a full scale attack on the European continent. Many of the tribes only send the minimum amount of personnel requested to help man the southern air defense batteries and instead choose to guard just their own lands. The Highlanders in the northern mountains send no one at all. They don't even have a regular representative in the War Council."

"What about the establishment of a UDP base in Britannia for future operations against the TEC?" President Holmes asks hopefully.

"I'm afraid the support in the War Council just isn't there. Most of them are distrustful not only of the Techies, but all outsiders. Remember, Ma'am, we've been watching you for years. You haven't exactly been a democratic nation for long, and many of us still remember watching transmissions of your Hunger Games. The opposition doesn't want to bring that kind of belligerence into our country that we have kept free for ten generations while the rest of the world crumbled around us. It would take a pretty impressive chain of events to change that." That's when I begin formulating a plan in my head that would kill two birds with one stone.

"Amelia, do you still have that tunnel link into the TEC's main database?"

"Yes Sir," she says. "It's proven to be very useful so far."

"You have a link into the Techie's database?" Angus says with shock and surprise.

"Yes, Chief, and I'm sure that President Holmes wouldn't mind the sharing of intelligence in exchange for further cooperation with our efforts." I motion to Driva who thankfully continues to follow my lead.

"Or course, that's what _allies_ do," she says with the perfect amount of emphasis. Sometimes, it really is a pleasure to work with her. We can read each other like a book when we're in sync.

I hear the doors behind me open and I look back to see Ratchet followed by a very nervous looking Hatchet run toward the briefing table. He takes a seat next to Doc and Tiller, but she walks all the way around the table to sit by herself on the other side.

"Nice of you to finally the join the discussion, Sergeants Sawbleyde and Hightower…" President Holmes says condescendingly. "I trust that sightseeing around Britannia is not interfering too much with your assigned duties."

"No Ma'am," Ratchet says frantically, "we were just…"

"Checking on the hovercraft!" Hatchet blurts out interrupting him. "It took some damage yesterday in an air attack and I was assisting Sergeant Hightower in repairs…"

"All night long…" Angus mutters with a chuckle. Hatchet turns bright red and buries her head in her hands. On the screen above, Amelia immediately gets a slightly judgmental look on her face and President Holmes looks like she's about to say something else, but a subtle shaking of my head lets her know to drop it.

"Going back to my original point," I say trying to get things back on topic, "Amelia can you bring up on a map exactly where the UDP civilians are being held."

"Yes Sir," Amelia says punching a few keys. "It appears to be some kind of large complex located here," a bright yellow dot begins blinking on a map of Western Europe. "Details of it are encrypted even inside the TEC database. Whatever they're doing, they definitely want it kept secret from everybody…and I do mean _everybody_."

"That's Francia," Angus interjects. "Supreme Lawgiver Grosfrere's own backyard. The support for him there is the strongest it is anywhere in the TEC."

"Then that makes my plan all the better," I say.

"Well then, General, please enlighten us," President Holmes states. I lay out in detail exactly what I want to do for everybody in attendance.

"That's the craziest idea I've ever heard, Sir," Hatchet says finally bringing herself to speak, "and I'm totally up for it."

"Why not?" Ratchet says. "It could be fun."

"I go where my team goes," Doc adds.

"What about you, Sergeant Osprey?" I ask. "Could you pull it off?"

"Oh, I have the easy part," he says with a grin, "it's all the other moving pieces I'm worried about. However, if the Brits are up for it, I'm game."

"Well, my team says they can do it, Madame President. Do we have your blessing?" I ask.

"My main concern is for those hostages," she responds firmly, "and since it sounds like we don't have a better plan, you have my permission. Now, the real question is whether or not you will be able to fulfill your part of the bargain, Chief McFadden," she says to Angus.

"I can make no guarantees," he says to her, "It will take the permission of the War Council, but I do promise this: I will do everything within my power to ensure they approve it. If the Council sees that the people of Panem are willing to fight that hard, then the Britons will know that they are worthy allies, and we might finally be able to bring this endless war to a finish."

"Alright then, General, it's on you now," President Holmes says to me. "Go make it happen, and good luck. The fate of this conflict may rest in your hands."

"Understood, Ma'am." President Holmes nods silently and exits the screen. Amelia walks back to the center of the shot.

"We're praying for you, Sir. _May the odds be ever in your favor_." The transmission fades back into static and cuts out. Angus walks over to me and slaps his hand on my shoulder.

"I'll say one thing for you, Laddie, you've certainly got some guts for even suggesting that: going into the lion's den with only a toothpick. If you can pull it off," he points to the Council Chamber above us, "there won't be any doubt left in their heads that they should stand with you."

"I need to speak with them directly. The plan will mean more coming directly from my mouth."

"I'll call a session for this afternoon," he says. "Don't want to make it too early. Most of 'em are probably still hungover from last night!"

"I'll be ready." Angus nods and walks away. I dismiss Ratchet, Doc, and Tiller but grab Hatchet.

I make her walk with me upstairs and outside into the sunlight. After picking a quiet spot on the wall, I look over to her face. Her cheeks are still a bit red with shame and she knows what's coming.

"So," I say looking out over the river, "Do you make a habit of sleeping with subordinates you barely know or is it a new thing for you?"

"Sir…"

"Considering that this is a major operation that will affect the future of the free world, I need to know that you won't risk it all because you need to get laid!"

"Sir, I'm sorry but I was very drunk last night and…"

"And you think that makes it okay?" I say angrily.

"Of course not, Sir. That was my first time…."

"Wait, that was your first time?" I say a bit sarcastically. She does not find it funny at all.

"No! It was not my first time having…" She pauses afraid to even say the word out loud. Finally, she manages to spit out, "…having _relations_."

"Sergeant, we're both two adults here. I think we can use the word, 'sex' in conversation." She grows bright red again and looks down at the ground.

"Very well. Sir, it was not my first time having 'sex.' It was just my first time doing it with a subordinate."

"Do you know how beyond messed up that is? You're his non-commissioned officer in charge. Unlawful command influence is a crime, a _big_ one. I could technically have you court-martialed for that."

"Sir, I didn't do it for a power trip or anything!"

"Then why?" I ask staring straight at her.

"I did it because…at the time, I felt…." I am truly flabbergasted. This same woman who has been nothing but a symbol of strength so far is melting in front of me. She continues to try and speak, but is failing miserably. "Ever since we were on the hovercraft coming over here together…and then I was drinking and….I don't know! If you're gonna court-martial me, then just court-martial me!" She finally says giving up.

"You really are embarrassed by this, aren't you? If you have genuine feelings for Ratchet, just say so."

"NO!" she screams loudly. "No, I do not have feelings for that filthy Grease Monkey!" Somehow, by the tones in her voice, I don't believe her at all. "In fact, I've already told him that it's over…_nothing_ is ever going to happen again."

"You know, Sergeant, I understand that even the most sadistic psychopathic killers such as yourself have needs. If you want to cultivate a relationship with the Grease Monkey, I'm fine with that. I just need certain assurances that you two will keep it in your personal life and on missions you will be completely professional. I need to be able to rely on my team when we go into action because we _will_ go into action."

"Sir, I have no interest in a relationship and I give you my solemn vow that you will always be able to count on me in action."

"That's all I needed to hear, Olivia. Dismissed." She turns around and begins to walk away. "Oh, and Hatchet," She stops and looks back at me. "If you were as unconvincing to Ratchet as you were to me about not having any feelings for him…you may want to go back and try telling him again." Hatchet's cheeks grow an even brighter shade of crimson and she disappears like a flash back inside. All I can do is shake my head and smile.


	18. Chapter 18

"Are you absolutely mad?" The Councilor from the Yorks screams at me from his bench. "Are you that anxious to die?" I stand in the middle of the Council Chamber in my full dress uniform. Hatchet, Ratchet, Doc, and Tiller sit very uncomfortably on the bench next to me and Angus leans back in his throne in absolute frustration with the gridlock as the room erupts in more screaming.

"I don't think they liked your plan very much, Sir," Ratchet whispers to me shaking his head.

"Thank you for your astute observation, Sergeant," I spit back at him. Angus bangs his wooden stick on the stone floor trying to calm the ruckus.

"Enough! Enough!" he screams. The shouting dies down a little bit but the level of emotion is still high.

"What they're suggesting could compromise the entire defense of Britannia!" another Councilor screams down from the other side of the room. "What this Council needs is sound planning and logic, not the whims of some foreign fool!"

Panic begins to build in the pit of my stomach. I feel like that I will totally fail in my mission; both in rescuing our citizens from the TECs and in establishing an alliance. However, despite my internal dread, I do not let my worry show on my face. Suddenly, a bright gleam catches my eye. It is the Mockingjay pin reflecting the rays of the afternoon sun that's streaming in from the large glass windows. Katniss' words come back to me. _"Fight."_

"Councilors!" I scream raising my hands in the air.

"Right Honourable Councilors…" Angus whispers behind his hand to me.

"Right Honourable Councilors!" I continue to shout. "Please hear me!" The roars erupt again in the chamber drowning out my words.

"LET HIM SPEAK!" Angus roars at the top of his lungs. The top of his bald head is almost glowing red with rage and his huge chest is pounding up and down. The effect is very intimidating and the room silences almost instantly.

_ "So, that's why he was elected War Chief….he's terrifying. _Right Honourable Councilors,I realize that what I suggest is extreme, but extreme times call for extreme measures…" I search everywhere inside of me for the right words, but there is nothing but panicked silence. I pray for some miracle, when all of a sudden, a single memory pops into my head and I choose to run with it.

"Last evening at Gambols, War Chief McFadden spoke of an ancient anthem that everyone seemed to know. It contained the words, '_Britons never shall be slaves…_"

"What possible relevance does this have?" The Councilor from the Yorks screams out.

"Let him finish!" Angus yells back at him.

"Sir, where the hell are you going with this?" Hatchet whispers at me.

"Just _go_ with it," I respond through nervously gritted teeth before turning back to the Councilors. I begin to pace down the aisle between the benches with purpose. "That song sounds very interesting…"

"It's a drinking song!" another Councilor yells from the back of the room.

"Drinking song aside, it sounds very motivating. Would you all sing it for me?"

"He _is_ mad!" The entire room bursts into laughter. My panic surges back and I have the overwhelming urge to run from the Chamber and hide, but then I hear a voice cry out from behind me.

"_When Britain first, at Heaven's command,"_ It is Angus, belting out the tune loud and forcefully. The laughter continues, but he does not stop. _"__Aro-o-o-ose from out the a-a-a-zure main, Arose, arose, arose from out the a-azure main." _The laughter begins to subside and slowly a few more voices begin to join him. "_This was the charter, the charter of the land, and guardian a-a-angels sang this strain…"_ Then, in a moment I will remember until my dying day, the entire Council Chamber bursts into one glorious chorus:

"_Rule Britannia! Britannia rule the waves. Britons never, never, never shall be slaves._

_Rule Britannia! Britannia rule the waves. Britons never, never, never shall be slaves!"_ There is much smiling and laughter afterwards and a few of the Councilors even congratulate Angus on his singing voice.

"So, are you satisfied with our rendition of the tune, General Snow? Or would you like to be entertained by a few more songs?" says the Councilor from the Yorks. The rest of the chamber bursts back into snide laughter. I just smile and look at him.

"No, Sir," I say. "However, I wonder where the spirit of that song went?"

"Please explain yourself, Sir," he replies to me indignantly.

"Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news to you Right Honourable Ladies and Gentlmen, but you _are_ slaves. Every single one of you!" The room erupts into the worst chaos yet, however, I find my voice and yell over all of them so they can hear me. "YOU ARE SLAVES BECAUSE YOU LIVE IN FEAR! YOU LIVE IN FEAR OF THE TEC AND YOU REFUSE TO LEAVE THIS ISLAND TO FIGHT!"

"What the hell are you doing, Sir?" Hatchet tries to scream at me, but her voice is lost in the screaming. "Are you trying to get us killed?"

"And succeeding apparently." Every Councilor is on his or her feet pointing, screaming, and totally red faced.

"How dare you, Sir!"

"You come here knowing nothing about us and you insult us!"

"Get those bastards off our island!"

Without warning, Angus flies to his feet and with a mighty roar, slams his stick onto the stone floor. It shatters into pieces and sends everyone in the room into shock.

"He's right!" Angus finally screams. "He's right and we are all fools for not seeing it before. What made our ancestors great?" Every other person in the room stares silently at the floor, afraid to meet the eyes of the Great War Chief in his rage. "No one has the answer? Very well, I'll tell you! It was the courage to meet the enemy _wherever_ and _whenever_: the drive to go forward into the unknown and travel around the globe. Now, we huddle here on this tiny little strip of land, perfectly content to live the rest of our lives, and the lives of our children, and the lives of our children's children, in privation and isolation because we don't want to band together.

These men and women here," he says pointing to us, "traveled alone across the ocean, made it through the TEC blockade. Then, they survived our own attempt to blow them apart, and still had the courage to stand before a hostile crowd and offer to lay down their lives to help us secure our first ever victory against the Techies on _their _soil….and what do we do? We threaten them, we belittle them, and we insult them because we are terrified of losing whatever little control of our lives we have left! We have utterly betrayed the sacrifices those who have come before us and we have damned our children to a life of utter meaninglessness." The Councilors fall to into stunned silence. Their leader's words have obviously wounded them. I am the only one in the room who can look Angus in the face right now, and I swear that I see him flash the tiniest of winks in my direction. "General Snow, I now ask you, as the Chief of the War Council, to take your soldiers and leave Britannia, because we obviously cannot put aside our own differences to join in your war against those who would destroy us…"

All I do is somberly nod to Angus and motion for the rest of the team to stand up and join me. As I lead the four of them toward the door of the Council Chamber, I pray that my crazy idea has not backfired on us. There is only silence. My heart is pounding so loud that I'm afraid everyone in the room can hear it. I'm at the door and I know I have failed. Nothing left now but to pile into the hovercraft, head back to Panem, and let President Holmes know that all her faith in me was completely misplaced, and millions could die because of my ridiculous idea….

"Wait!" a cry rings out from behind us. I turn to see the Councilor of the Yorks standing on his feet. "The tribe of the Yorks votes 'aye' on General Snow's plan." A woman a few rows down stands to her feet next.

"The tribe of the Cornish votes 'aye' as well!" More Councilors start standing now.

"The Picts say aye!"

"The tribe of the Umbrians says 'aye'!"

"Aye from the Mercians!" Soon the whole chamber is chanting together in support. Angus stares back at us with a broad grin from ear to ear.

"Well Sir," Doc says from next to me. "Looks like we're going to war."

"Certainly does, Doc. Certainly Does."

It takes almost a month to make the preparations. Intelligence is gathered and shared between the Capitol and London. Tiller and Ratchet get to work on refining our hovercraft. The stealth has to be perfect this time. With the help of the Brits, the two of them finally make it invisible to even the best radar. Doc sets into his task of helping our new allies establish a more advanced combat triage network designed to handle large amounts of casualties efficiently, and Hatchet helps train the rest of us in infiltration, marksmanship, and close-quarters combat. We will have no one else on the ground to rely on but ourselves.

The Brits are also busy. Pilots come in from all over the country and begin to prep for action. Precious fuel and ammunition are stockpiled, and intense training simulations begin. If we succeed, this will be one of Britannia's finest hours.

In the brief periods of relaxation we find ourselves with, I mostly choose to spend time alone in my room at _The Three Foxes_. I have only been able to talk to Lizzy once for less than five minutes due to the difficulties of the transmissions. It was barely a long enough conversation to let her know I was alive; however, I left out the part that it may not be the case for much longer. She told me how much they were enjoying being by the sea, and how Octavian may be getting ready to say his first words soon. I gave her all my love, and told her to kiss our son for me. Sadly, I think even in that brief exchange of words, my brilliant Lizzy could guess that something major was about to happen.

Tiller has really taken to life in Britannia and frequents the bar downstairs after hours; exchanging stories with the Brit pilots and flirting with Mrs. Marbury. Doc, much like me, seems very private and enjoys his time alone with his books and writing. As for Hatchet, despite her frequent assurances that things are non-existent between Ratchet and herself, I often find that both of them seem to disappear simultaneously. I simply choose not to ask questions or bring it up.

Finally, the chosen day arrives. Preparations are complete and nothing remains but to execute what will no doubt go down as one of the key operations of this whole war. Success or failure: historians will debate our actions for decades to come.

The Hangar underneath London is absolutely packed with personnel, equipment, and aircraft. They will be waiting for one simple word from us: "_Go_." Hopefully, my team and I will still be alive to send it.

The five of us arrive at our hovercraft in full kit, armed to the teeth with weapons, ammo, and communications gear. We'll be doing most of our work on foot, and there will be no going back to the ship after things get started on the ground. As we finish loading onto the hovercraft, Angus comes to meet us.

"Are you ready?" he asks somewhat anti-climatically.

"As we'll ever be," I say smearing some black camouflage paint on my face.

"I just want you to know, General, you and yer men, and woman of course," Hatchet nods in appreciation, "have done more to bring us together in this fight than anyone else in the history we can remember. I really pray that you get those people out of there, but even if you don't succeed, just know that we will continue to fight, both for us and for Panem. _This war will be won_."

The five us all bow in gratitude for Angus' kind words.

"Thank you, Chief," I say reaching out my hand. "It's good to know that at least part of our mission has already succeeded."

"You just make sure that all the other parts succeed as well," he says shaking my hand.

We all board the hovercraft and Tiller starts her up. I reach into my pocket, pull out the Mockingjay pin which has become my constant companion. I can now attach it to my jacket without even looking down.

"For luck," I say to Hatchet.

"We're gonna need it."

The network of conveyor belts and elevators takes control. Our ship passes through a series of tunnels and then begins the quick rise to the surface. Without warning, the dim artificial illumination of the tunnels turns to the absolute natural blackness of British night. Tiller revs the throttle and we lift into the air.

"Where to Boss?" he says jokingly over the intercom.

"Take us to the TEC, Sergeant."


	19. Chapter 19

The hovercraft flies through the blackness of night as the Britannic Channel, a narrow strip of water that divides the island from the rest of Continental Europe, rushes pasts a thousand feet below. We have to fly this low. Even though we are in a stealth ship, going any higher would risk possible detection by TEC radar. We are in black-out conditions: two dim red bulbs in the ceiling light the troop compartment and bathe all of us in a demonic glow.

I sit on the bench, tightly gripping my rifle between my legs and nervously flick the sling swivel mount with my thumb. Down at the other end of the compartment, Doc is finishing tightening the straps on his medical aide bags. There is not a single inch of him that doesn't have some kind of medicine, bandage, or some other kind of live-saving supply strapped to it. He has voluntarily decided to carry twice the standard load of aide gear on this mission because we don't know what condition the hostages will be in when we arrive. On top of all that equipment, he still has the standard combat load of weapons and ammunition. The TECs don't recognize any kind of treaty protecting medics and he will be just another target to them. As a result, he will be loaded with about a hundred pounds of dead weight. Even though Doc would never have let us agree to it, the other four of us secretly promised each other that we would protect him with our lives. His knowledge and skills are irreplaceable, and if one of us has to go down to make sure he carries on…._we will_.

Hatchet and Ratchet and seated directly across from me. He stares off into space, lost in his thoughts and I can't blame him. Hatchet pulls a black bandana from her pants pocket and ties it around her head to cover her hair. She then produces a camo stick and begins painting her pale skin. I have come to learn that she finds the same comfort in the methodical preparation for action as I do. It clears the mind and makes one focused on the task at hand. Unfortunately, I seem to be failing this time.

Tiller's voice comes over the intercom:

"We've just crossed the northern beaches and over the TEC. Approximately 45 mikes to landing zone at current heading and speed." I reach up to a terminal behind my shoulder and press the talk button.

"Any sign that we've been detected?"

"Not yet, Sir," he responds. "It looks like those Brits really know how to mess with the TEC's radar system."

"Good to hear, Tiller, keep us posted."

"And Roger," he says before signing off. I go back to nervously fidgeting with my rifle. I check and recheck that my magazine is seated, a round is in the chamber, and the safety is still engaged.

"You know, Sir," Hatchet says looking over to me. "If it was good a minute ago, it's probably still good."

"Yeah, you're right," I say with a grin, trying to hide my uneasiness. I lean back and try to remain still, but that lets my mind wander again. I try to remember the last time I was this scared…

"Ares, stop it! You're driving me crazy!" Lizzy says walking over from the bedroom to the living room and plopping down next to me on the couch. She sighs under the weight of her pregnant belly and flicks her wet hair in my face…I think a little on purpose. I reach over to the end table and pick up the book that has been my bible for the past nine months. Its pages are dog-eared and highlighted from the countless times I've read through them. I flip straight to the chapter I want from memory.

"It's says right here in Chapter 12 that you shouldn't be exercising this hard in the ninth month, Baby. You could accidently dislodge the placenta from the uterine wall…"

"That's it," Lizzy says rolling her eyes. She grabs the book from my hands and throws it as hard as she can against the wall.

"What did you do that for?" I say as I jump up to go grab it.

"Because I'm not a piece of military equipment that you can just read the manual for, Ares! Stop talking like you have to check my oil every day or my engine will seize! _It's my body and I'm the one who's pregnant_. If I don't go for my daily swim, I would become even crazier considering I have to live with you!" Lizzy, my wife, and the only person in the world that I'm truly afraid of when she's angry.

"I'm sorry," I say like a scared little child.

"Now, pick up the book." I automatically reach down and grab it. She points to the waste basket on the other side of the room. "Walk over and put the book in there."

"But we'll need chapters 14 through 25 after you give birth…" I stammer.

"Put…it…in…_the trash_," she says without dropping her finger.

"Yes, Ma'am," I say like a private talking to his drill sergeant in basic training. I quickly run over and obey the order like my life depended on it, because it probably does at this point.

"Ares," she says switching back to her sweet voice, "I know you're just scared that something will happen to the baby. Believe me, I'm scared too, but little Octavian or Katniss will be just fine…"

We both agreed months ago that we didn't want to know the sex of the baby until it was born. Also, we decided that Lizzy would pick the name if it was a boy and I would pick it if it was a girl. She immediately chose 'Octavian' because she thought it was both a homage to my Capitol roots and that it would convey the strength and honor she admired so much in me. I unfortunately, had a much harder time telling her what name I really wanted. Finally, Lizzy sat me down and told me she already knew what name I wanted for a girl.

"Be honest, with me, Ares. You want to name our daughter after her, don't you?" I gathered the courage to tell her something that has been eating me alive inside since childhood. I've always wanted to name my oldest daughter after my mother…but not the woman who gave birth to me: the one who raised me without ever knowing I existed.

I _never_ learned my biological mother's name. I was a just a baby when I was taken by the Rebels. Venus was old enough to know, but she was forbidden by the "R & R" personnel from ever speaking about my parents because of some incident that occurred before I was even born. She left the "R &R" center when I was seven, but after my release she still refused to give me any details about them because it was "too painful." I even tried to look them up in Capitol Records after I became an officer, and only found one detail in Coriolanus Snow's personal file:

_Children: 1 Son (Married)_

_Grandchildren: 2, Venus (Female), Ares (Male): Both remanded to State Custody_

_Son and spouse executed for "Crimes Against Humanity" All names and details deleted and redacted under penalty of law…_

My parents were war criminals: so heinous that they were deleted from history. I let the issue drop right there. I never want to know to them, because I am _not_ their child.

Lizzy has known for years about my feelings for the woman who taught me about sacrifice, loyalty, and love and was totally supportive of my desire.

_"Then Katniss it is…"_

I now look back to Lizzy on the couch and realize how ridiculous I've been, especially considering how wonderful my wife has been to me.

"I'm sorry, Baby," I say feeling like a fool. "I just want to be the good father that I…."

"_That you never had…_" Lizzy says finishing the thought that she knows I'm too humiliated to ever speak aloud."

"Yeah…"

"Ares," Lizzy says. "You will be a _fantastic_ father."

"I wish I could believe that."

"Well, you love me so much that I think you won't have any problem showing that same amount of love to our child." I just smile back at her. "Now, you can continue showing that love to me by getting me a glass of water. I'm too fat to get off this damn couch." I just laugh.

"Beautiful, you are_ not_ fat." Lizzy just points to her baby bump with both hands and I walk to the kitchen afraid to say anything else. Just as I fill a glass from the sink, I hear Lizzy yell my name.

"Ares…" I run back to the living room.

"What is it?" I just have to look down for an answer. There is a puddle of clear liquid on the couch between her legs.

"I think my water just broke." I drop the glass and it spills all over the carpet. "Great, that's two things we have to clean up now…" she mutters.

"You're not due for another three weeks!" I scream out, panic gripping my insides.

"Well, this is definitely your kid because it has its father's impatience…"

"Lizzy, we have to get you to the hospital!" I shout as I start to run around the apartment like a crazy person. "We don't even have your bags packed!"

"Ares!" Lizzy shouts taking charge of the situation that her husband seems overwhelmed by. I walk over and stand in front of her. "I will call the hospital and get a taxi. You, calm down and then go to the bedroom. Get my suitcase out of the closet." She then gives me a detailed list of everything she wants and I mindlessly obey like a robot.

Six hours later, and we're in a birthing suite at Capitol Memorial Hospital. Lizzy is dressed in a gown and lies on the bed as I stand next to her. She squeezes my hand so hard that I lose all feeling in it. Her face is blood red and she is covered with beads of sweat. I try to stay calm, but fail miserably. A doctor is at the foot of the bed with a nurse at his side.

"You're doing great, Lizzy," he says in his soothing professional voice. "We're almost there. I can see the head and it should just be one more contraction."

"Lizzy, you are so beautiful right now," I say gazing down at her.

"Shut up! Just shut up!" she screams as the pain grips her one more time.

"Ok…" is the only response I can get out. Lizzy screams at the top of her lungs and then falls silent gasping for air.

"Baby's out," the doctor says reaching for some instruments. The nurse hands him a white blanket and he wraps something in it.

"The baby's not crying," Lizzy says through her exasperated gasps. "Why isn't the baby crying?" I look over to the doctor who is still working.

"I don't know, Baby. I don't know," I say wiping the sweat from her forehead with a washcloth. Suddenly, our mutual terror disappears as we hear the most beautiful sound in the world: _our child's first cries._

"Congratulations, Mom and Dad," The doctor says handing me the bundle. I carefully take it and stare down in utter wonder as the tears start streaming down my face.

"Well?" Lizzy says nervously. "Octavian or Katniss?" I lift up the blanket to check. I smile before handing the baby to her.

_"Octavian"_

"Hey there you," Lizzy says taking her child in her arms for the first time. Both of us are crying almost as much as our son.

"60 seconds to LZ!" Tiller's voice over the intercom brings me back to the present. I snap forward and grip my rifle again.

"Alright," Hatchet says pulling herself up. I want a nice clean dispersion. Fives and twenty-fives: the whole shebang ladies!" Doc and Ratchet laugh as they stand. She hits the intercom and talks to Tiller. "Hey, as soon as you touch down, drop ramp. We'll secure the LZ as you power down. As soon as you're ready, grab your kit and meet us on the ground."

"Understood, Sergeant."

Hatchet then looks over to me as I nervously climb to my feet.

"You know, it's alright to be scared, Sir."

"Good, because I'm terrified right now."

"I think we all are, Sir." Ratchet says. I look down and see his hand find Hatchet's. She squeezes back for a brief second before letting go. I smile and then turn towards the ramp as my confidence returns. The ship goes into a hard vertical hover and then drops straight down onto the landing gear.


	20. Chapter 20

The ramp drops and the four of us silently run out into the night. We take our positions around the perimeter of the hovercraft, covering three-hundred sixty degrees of security. As I kneel down in the tall-grass, I take my first look at the Trans-European Commonwealth through my night-vision glasses. All I see around me is the peaceful quiet of a Francian forest and all I hear after the engines shut down are the chirping of crickets and the croaking of a few frogs in a nearby stream. Still, I keep my rifle at the ready in case this place is more than it seems. Tiller expertly put the hovercraft down in this thicket of trees to conceal it from TEC surveillance once the sun rises.

He soon runs down the ramp and joins us as the ship automatically closes behind him. Our vessel is now totally dark and quiet and will remain that way until it is needed again…I'm just sorry that this beautiful place will no longer exist in a little over 12 hours.

Hatchet assembles the team and has the rest of the sergeants rally at my position.

"Everybody got everything they need?" she whispers. "We can't exactly head back here for more supplies." She gets a nod from everyone and then turns to me. "Your show now, Sir."

"Alright," I say pulling out an old-fashioned paper map of the area that I had the Brits make for me. "We're here," I say pointing to a set of coordinates. "Ratchet, that little thingy of yours working?" He pulls out a device from his jacket, clicks it on, and sweeps the area. It was something that I asked him to develop over the past few weeks knowing the TECs have hidden surveillance instruments everywhere in this country.

"Roger Sir, I'm not reading any sensors in this area. If the TECs didn't detect us on the approach in, then I think we're in the clear."

"Well, if that changes, you be sure to let the rest of us know."

"Tracking, Sir."

"How about our little distraction?"

"Set up and ready to go," Ratchet answers patting at something in his jacket pocket. "When you give the order, we'll be golden."

"Alright," I say turning back toward the map. "Amelia's intel put the location of the hostages at a complex here about five miles to our south. The enemy mainframe also says that there's a TEC village here, about a mile away from the camp. Daylight is gonna hit in about an hour. I say we stay in the tree line, and skirt around to the southeast. We can check out the village from the high ground here, and then head straight at the complex and wait for sunset. What does everyone think? Now's not the time to keep your opinions to yourself."

"Sound like a plan to me, Boss," Tiller says confidently. Doc and Ratchet nod in agreement.

"Alright, Let's move," Hatchet says pushing herself to her feet with the butt of her rifle. "I got point." As I shove the map back into my jacket, we all get into a wedge behind her and begin to move through the trees as quietly as we can. Hatchet glides through the foliage like a ghost, pushing aside branches and leaves with the muzzle of her rifle, ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. The rest of us struggle to keep up with her lead. Every few minutes, I check a compass on my tactical vest to confirm we're still headed in the right direction while Ratchet and Tiller on my left and right check for the enemy. Doc, with his heavy load, brings up the rear constantly searching for anyone who could have snuck up behind us.

As the sun begins to filter through the trees we are already halfway to the TEC village. I run up to Hatchet.

"How do you doing there? Need a break?" I whisper next to her ear.

"Oh, I'm just dandy, Sir" she says without breaking her iron gaze on the path in front of us. "You still reading that compass right?"

"Yes, Ma'am," I reply. At this rate we'll hit the village in about another hour.

"Ma'am?" she says back indignantly. "I'm no officer, I'm a sergeant. I _work _for a living."

"My apologies, Sergeant" I say with a grin.

"Much better, Sir," she grins back and I fall back into formation.

About forty-five minutes later, Hatchet freezes and drops to the ground. All of us do the same a split second later. She motions for me to join her at the front and I crawl up next to her.

"What have we got, Sergeant?" I whisper. She just points forward. About fifty yards in front us down an embankment, a paved road slices through the forest. I motion for Ratchet to crawl up to us as well. Doc and Tiller continue to provide security to our rear. "Ratchet, any TEC sensors in this area?" He checks his device once again.

"Negative Sir…but…," Suddenly his eyes grow wide. "Duck!" We drop low to the ground just in time for two trucks to come screaming around the bend. Both are military and are loaded with TEC soldiers in their blue armor. They pass by at high speed, not even noticing our presence.

"That was _too _close," Hatchet mutters as soon as they disappear up the road. "Are you sure we need to keep going in this direction, Sir?" I check the map again and realize that we don't have a choice."

"Afraid so, Sergeant."

"Alright, I've got far side security," Hatchet says without questioning my navigation. "Sir, you've got near side."

"Roger." She motions for Tiller and Doc to join us. Then, as we have rehearsed a hundred times, she flies down the embankment and across the road to the other side. She drops into the brush and points her rifle down the road. As soon as I take position on the near side watching the other direction, Ratchet, Doc, and Tiller all run across the road to join her. Once I think it is clear, I pick myself up and run down the embankment. I dive onto the road, but I make a mistake that almost costs us everything.

In utter overconfidence, I didn't listen closely enough while watching my direction. I'm barely halfway across the roadway when I hear another set of trucks come roaring around the bend. I freeze, thinking I'll have no choice but to open fire. But just before they come into view, I feel a hand grab my arm and yank me across the road in a flash. Hatchet throws me down into the tall grass on the far side and covers me with her body as the TEC vehicles roar past. When we're clear, she pulls me up by my gear and angrily glares in my face.

"What happened to keeping focus when we're in action, _Sir_?" She says my title not out of respect, but as an insult. I hate it when non-commissioned officers do this, but this time she's absolutely right. I could have easily gotten everyone killed. It's a good thing that she moves a lot faster than I could have imagined, or this entire mission would have failed. When I don't offer an immediate response, she just mutters, "Just be sure you tell President Holmes that I'm still doing my job…"

"Roger that, Sergeant."

"Alright, let's keep moving," she says getting the team back in formation. Luckily for me, I don't have very long to curse myself for my mistake, because we arrive at the edge of the TEC village less than ten minutes later.

Hatchet motions for the rest of us to join her at crest of the rise on the outskirts of the settlement. We all crawl up and pull out our binoculars. The village consists of about fifty polished white buildings that gleam in the morning sun. In the center, there is a miniature pyramid about five stories tall, modeled on "The Heart" back in Germania. A set of loudspeakers mounted at the top of its point broadcasts propaganda, and there is a huge portrait of Supreme Lawgiver Grossfrere hung on its exterior. We scan down to see the people, all dressed in white jumpsuits, mindlessly walking through the streets like they were on an automatic pilot.

"_The conflict against the warmongers of Panem continues in glorious fashion…." _

The loudspeakers below broadcast so loudly that we can hear every word almost half a mile away.

"_Triumphant forces of the Trans-European Commonwealth, under direct guidance from the Man among Men, Supreme Lawgiver Grosfrere, have scored another key victory against combined UDP forces that have allied with the Russian Cossack Hordes that are attempting to push further into TEC territory from the far east…"_

"What the hell is he talking about?" Ratchet asks confused. "There aren't any UDP forces on the continent besides us and we sure as hell haven't allied with any Cossacks or whoever they mean."

"Yeah, but the people down there don't know that," I say without taking my eyes off of the village. "The threat of invasion has always been one of history's greatest motivators."

"_Supreme Lawgiver Grosfrere also wishes to extend his personal commendation to the workers of the Rhineland Coal Reclamation Plant, who have increased the production of artificial fuel from 1 million gallons to 1.5 million gallons over the past month while also voluntarily requesting a 50 percent cut in their daily soy protein ration…"_

"Something tells me that cut wasn't voluntary…" Doc says gritting his teeth.

"_And now it is time for the Daily Discipline. We now transfer broadcast to your local government headquarters for today's proceedings: _

_Unus Europa Sub Unus Rector"_

Suddenly a squad of five TEC soldiers appears from the pyramid leading a man in a jumpsuit. We can tell that it was once white, but now has been covered with dirt and blood. His face is bloated and bruised by repeated beatings. The soldiers secure him to a post in the middle of the square in front of the pyramid. Another TEC in officer's armor appears from the pyramid next. He walks over to the man and holds a microphone to his mouth.

"I am Citizen Pontaine," The beaten man speaks into the microphone. His words are broadcast over the loudspeakers for everyone in the village to hear. "I am here because of my ghastly crimes against the Trans-European Commonwealth and the Man among Men, Supreme Lawgiver Grosfrere. I confess now to the whole world so that I may face justice with a clear conscience: It was my sacred duty to produce fifty bushels of seed grain last quarter, but due to my laziness and sloth, I only produced forty-nine. I now will face my righteous punishment as the law demands!" The officer pulls the microphone away from the man's mouth and walks over to the other soldiers who have formed a firing line. The officer raises his arm, and the TEC soldiers present their rifles.

Doc bolts forward as if he wants to leap down the rise and run straight into the village, but Hatchet's arms stop him.

"Stand down, Sergeant!" she commands in a whisper.

"We have to do something!" he says back to her.

"We _can_ do something, Sergeant," I say looking at him in the face. "We can complete our mission and end this diseased place once and for all."

"But they're going to kill an innocent man right in front of us!" Ratchet reaches out an understanding hand and places it on Doc's shoulder.

"It's too late for him, Brother, but we can still do something for all those other people down there."

The echo of gunfire reaches our ears. Doc slams his fist into the ground.

"It ain't you, man," Tiller says. "Save it. Save it for the fight ahead."

"I think we've seen enough here, Sir," Hatchet says still holding onto Doc.

"I agree. Let's keep moving." We crawl backwards back into the trees and continue our movement around the village. The rest of us keep an eye on Doc but he seems to have followed Tiller's advice and turns his focus back to the mission at hand. Soon, Hatchet stops us again. I run up next to her and look through the trees to see the wire fence of our objective directly below us.


	21. Chapter 21

Hatchet motions with her arm for us to follow her. She leads us up behind another small hill to our left and gets us into position to watch the complex unobserved. We take our positions and pull out our binoculars again.

The whole camp is very large and completely surrounded by a wire fence.

"Bet you good money that whole thing is electrified," Ratchet says staring down at the large concrete supports that hold the wire.

"Probably a bet I wouldn't want to take," I whisper back. "Any chance you can take out the generator?"

"No need, Sir. That's why I brought the satchels. Once we take it down, that should drop current to the rest of the wire."

"You sure about that?" Hatchet asks suspiciously.

"Pretty sure."

"Ok then…."

Guard towers ring the complex every hundred yards or so. Each one has a TEC in full armor with a machine gun and a spotlight.

"They're gonna be trouble," Doc says checking out the nearest one to us.

"We'll breach in between two of them," Hatchet says. Left man takes out the one in his sector, Right man takes out the one on the other side. Just keep moving forward and we'll be out of the field of fire before the rest of them can get a bead on us."

The rest of the complex is divided into two sectors: a row of concrete barracks on the east side must serve as prisoner housing. They appear to be completely empty now during the day. On the west side of the camp is a large complex that appears to be some kind of factory. Huge steel tanks tower above the buildings. We can see a massive sliding door that leads inside the concrete mass of the structure. Inside we see immense curtains of sparks being produced by some kind of welding, but we're too far away to see exactly what they're working on. Suddenly, we catch the first glimpse of the hostages.

A boy and girl, no more than fourteen or fifteen push a huge cart full of scrap metal out of the factory on a set of railroad tracks. They look absolutely exhausted. They wear threadbare striped uniforms that hang in tatters from their emaciated, starving bodies. A few yards outside of the factory, the boy stumbles and collapses to the ground. The girl stops the cart and kneels down, trying to shake him back to his feet, but it is too late. A TEC soldier in his faceless armor appears with a leather strap and begins mercilessly whipping the boy who shudders under each painful strike. The girl grabs the arm of the TEC, begging him to stop, but he throws her to the ground next and she meets the same fate as the boy.

"I could kill that son of a bitch from right here…" Hatchet spits out through her teeth as our worst fears are confirmed. The Districts the TECs chose to kidnap their victims from…2, 3, 6, and 13: Mining, Electronics, Transportation, and Weapons…all skills very useful for a war effort.

"_The hostages are being used as slave labor…"_

The boy grabs the side of the cart and agonizingly pulls himself to his feet before grabbing the girl. Two more prisoners who appear to be in their late teens run out from the door and take positions on the sides of the cart. The four of them somehow manage to get the whole thing, which must weigh hundreds of pounds, moving again. The TEC then turns his attention to the other teens who arrived to help and whips them each a few times. The two good Samaritans take their blows before running away back inside the factory. As the two original kids continue in their assigned back-breaking labor, the TEC loses interest and walks back to his post.

"That could have easily been me down there," Ratchet says barely able to breathe.

"Or me," Tiller says.

"That could have been all of us," I spit out, keeping my rage inside. "This ends tonight…"

"Amen," Doc says nodding his head.

"Get down!" Hatchet says. Two TEC soldiers walk the perimeter on the outside of the fence. They pass within twenty yards of us before disappearing down their patrol route. When we're sure they're gone, we pop back up and go back to watching the camp. More young prisoners appear doing various menial tasks outside of the factory, but no adults can be seen.

"They must be inside doing something more complex," Ratchet says. "We used the same system in the factories in District 3 back home."

"But something tells me you don't use a lash to keep the kids motivated…" Doc says.

"Well, not since the fall of the Capitol."

"That aside, the Question is '_what are the adults building_?" Tiller says.

"_And Bingo was his name-o_," Hatchet sings under her breath. The rest of us look at her strangely. "Eleven o'clock, balcony overlooking the main work yard." I scan with my binoculars over to where Hatchet said. There, leaning against a metal rail with his long hair pulled back and his white jumpsuit and Reevox collar shining in the sun, is Rikard Ohm, gloating over his new empire.

"_He's mine…_" I say as my hands clench around my binoculars.

"Alright, Sir," Hatchet says calmly, "but if he's still breathing when the sun rises tomorrow morning, I'm taking it out of your hide."

"Don't worry, that won't be a problem."

We continue to watch the complex through the afternoon. As the sun begins to go down, a loud whistle blows and hundreds of UDP prisoners begin to pour out of the factory doors. They mindlessly form lines at their respective barracks where large cauldrons have been set up. They each take a bowl of thin gruel and pile one by one into their barracks for the night as a TEC soldier makes a mark for each prisoner on a clipboard.

As darkness completely falls, we slowly make our way behind the hill and prepare ourselves for the night's events.

"We'll breach the wire next to the barracks," I whisper to my team. "We'll then clear the immediate area and then Ratchet, Tiller, and Doc will move through. Get the prisoners assembled. Treat the ones who can't move and get them stabilized. While you guys keep an eye on the passengers, Hatchet and I will move through the rest of the complex, neutralize any remaining TECs, and then move back to the assembly area to wait for our ride."

"What about Ohm?" Hatchet asks looking at me.

"Like I said…he's _mine_."

"What if our ride is late?" Doc asks concerned.

"Then, we fight till we run out of ammo….then we keep fighting until we run out of life…."

"Understood, Sir."

"Hopefully," I continue, "our distraction will take care of most of the TECs until the eagles arrive."

"Do you really trust the Brits that much, Sir?" Tiller says.

"Do we really have a choice?"

"No."

"Another thing," I say turning to Hatchet. "If the ride gets here, and Hatchet and I haven't made it back to you guys….don't wait. Get these innocent people out of here."

"What the hell, Sir?" Ratchet asks angrily. "What are you two supposed to do? Walk home?"

"No, he's right," Hatchet says turning to Ratchet. "Our priority is them. The Sir and I are replaceable. Those we protect, are not. Got it?"

"Roger, Sergeant," Ratchet says looking down at the ground. Hatchet leans over, grabs Ratchet by the chin, and lifts his face to meet her eyes.

"Got it?" she says even more firmly.

"Yes, Sergeant," he says.

"Don't worry," I say to the group as an image of Lizzy and Octavian flashes through my mind. "I have no intention of dying on the other side of the planet today unless I have to. We all have loved ones to get back to when this is all over."

Suddenly, we hear the rustle of leaves just on the other side of the hill. I give the hand signal to scatter and we all dive into the tree line. Hatchet and I land next to each other behind a log a few yards away just as the bright beams of two flashlights cut through darkness. Two TEC perimeter guards walk down the hill and scan the area right where we were sitting a few seconds before.

"_Dammit, It's too soon!"_ I think as my heart pounds in my chest. _"The sun's barely gone down!"_ The guards continue to scan the area.

"Are you sure you heard something?" one says to other.

"Yeah, I thought it sounded like people whispering."

"Probably just wild dogs. They like to hunt out here when the sun goes down."

"Wild dogs don't whisper, idiot."

I nudge Hatchet and she turns to me.

"Make it quiet," I silently mouth to her. She nods and disappears like a phantom behind me. I continue to watch the two of them for a second as they keep scanning the woods with their flashlights. Suddenly, I hear the sound of steel slicing through the air. A throwing axe buries itself deep into the visor of the guard nearest to me and he collapses to the ground dead. Before the other guard can even react, a black shape flies out of the darkness and latches onto his back. Hatchet rips the helmet from his head and covers his mouth her hand. He fights and struggles for a few brief moments, but stops resisting as a knife plunges into his neck. The TEC twitches violently, but then slowly slides limp down Hatchet's front to the ground.

The rest of us join her as she pulls her axe from the first guard's face, flicks the blood off its edge in one fluid motion, and then sticks it back into her belt. We look down at our first two victims and take stock of our new situation.

"It won't be long before they notice these two are missing," Tiller whispers.

"What now, Sir?" Doc says. I turn to Hatchet and she stares back at me.

"We need to go _now_, Sir." I pull a radio from my vest and hit the transmit button.

"Tower, this is Mockingjay. _Rule Britannia_. I say again, _Rule Britannia_." After a few nervous seconds of static, Maggie's voice comes over my earpiece.

"_Mockingjay, this is Tower. Acknowledged. Eagles are taking flight now, Godspeed Sir."_

"Alright, Ratchet, time for our little distraction." He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a detonator.

"Are you sure they're going to be able to notice that from five miles away?" I ask nervously.

"Sir, her fuel tanks are almost full, she's got a full load of ordinance onboard, and I even took the liberty of borrowing four Mark VI bunker busters from the Brits. When this thing goes up, you'll be able to see it from orbit…" Ratchet arms the detonator and places his thumb over a red button.

"Wait," I say turning to the rest of the team. "When this goes, there's no turning back. We fight until those people are free or we die trying. Understand?" Everyone nods.

"We should do it together. Everybody's responsible," Hatchet whispers. Ratchet holds the detonator in the middle of our circle and we each put a hand over the button.

"For Panem…" I say.

"For Panem," everyone echoes back.

"On three," Ratchet says.

"One," Doc whispers.

"Two," Tiller continues.

"Three…" I finish. All of us firmly mash down on the detonator. A light brighter than the sun scorches the sky. We look to the northern horizon as our hovercraft explodes in a brilliant fireball that lifts up into the stratosphere. A few seconds later, the shockwave hits us and nearly blows us off our feet. It feels like being punched in the chest by a giant.

Just like Cortes a millennium before, we have arrived in a new world and burned our ships behind us. There is no choice but to fight like hell and hope we come out alive.

"_Victory or Death!"_


	22. Chapter 22

The TECs react immediately, just as we hoped. The soldiers all assemble into trucks and fly out of the front gate to the north, leaving just a skeleton crew behind to guard the prisoners. Once they're gone, I give the signal for us to move.

We fly around the compound's perimeter till we are directly across from the fence outside of the barracks.

"Go, Ratchet. Go!" I scream. He pulls two bundles from off his back and charges straight for the fence. The TECs in the guard towers have their searchlights on, but they're all focused inside of the compound, making sure that no prisoners take advantage of the confusion of the explosion to make a break for it. Ratchet winds up and throws the two bundles at the base of the fence, exactly fifty yards between two of the towers. Once the packages have landed safely, he bolts back to us, makes a jump, and lands directly next to me. He pulls another detonator from his pocket.

"At your command, Sir."

"Blow it! Blow it!" I shout. Ratchet hits the button.

"_BOOM!_" A massive explosion rocks the fence and blows a twenty foot wide hole in the wire precisely where we wanted it.

"Let's rock!" Hatchet screams and we run straight at the breach in a full sprint. Hatchet is on the left and I am on the right. The guards in the towers were stunned by the blast. They are just climbing back to their feet as we pass below. Hatchet and I each fire a quick burst from our rifles, neutralizing both TECs and clearing our way inside the complex.

"Tiller, Ratchet!" Hatchet screams over her shoulder. "Take Doc and head for the barracks. Sir, you're with me!" The three of them head for the concrete buildings to our left. Several TEC guards appear from in between the structures, but are quick work for Tiller, Ratchet, and Doc's rifles. As Hatchet and I head for the factory, we hear the three of them begin to kick down the locked doors and run inside. Doc shouts in his thick District 12 accent to the prisoners.

"UDP Defense Force! We're here to get you out!"

Hatchet and I continue to run through the darkness. Suddenly, a burst of machine gun fire peppers the ground around us and we dive for cover behind a scrap metal cart that was left on the tracks when the day's work was done. Bullets ricochet off the heavy metal of the cart's frame as Hatchet quickly peers around the edge with her night vision glasses.

"TEC in a tower: about fifty yards."

"Right or left?" I shout back to her.

"Right, one o'clock."

"Cover me!" Hatchet sticks her rifle over the top of the cart and opens fire. Her bullets cause the TEC in the tower to pause just long enough for me to dive from behind the cart and run towards the factory. He sees me sprinting through the darkness, but before he can swing his machine gun onto my position, I have him in my sights. A quick pull of the trigger, and he falls backwards to the ground. The searchlight next to him explodes into a shower of sparks as bullets rip through its bulb.

Hatchet rolls from behind the cart and runs to join me. As we approach the factory, we see that the main door has been sealed, but there is a smaller service entrance right next to it. We run towards the door, but before we reach it, it flies open. A TEC guard stumbles out into the night holding a rifle. We both see that he has the leather strap used to beat the children earlier still attached to his hip. I fire a quick burst from my rifle and hit him in the shoulder. He collapses to his knees and throws his weapon to the ground before raising his arms in a gesture of surrender.

Hatchet runs up next to me and stares into his black visor.

"People from Panem seem a little scarier when they can actually fight back don't they?" she says as she pulls her pistol. She sticks the muzzle right against his helmet and pulls the trigger, splattering the factory wall with blood and brains. The guard falls forward to the ground and we continue running through the service entrance and into the factory. As we climb a short flight of stairs up into the main bay, we both pause in shock.

This facility is massive. Bright lights illuminate an assembly line that runs down the center of the bay. Both sides are lined with long pneumatic hoses and thick electrical wires that power the heavy equipment along the line. A huge cauldron filled with molten steel bubbles at the far end.

TECs appear from a doorway on the other side of the bay and Hatchet and I both open fire simultaneously. Half of the TECs fall, but the rest dive for cover behind a bay of equipment. As they return fire, we do the same. The sound of bullets ricocheting echoes off the steel walls around us.

"Sir, do you care about the equipment in here?" Hatchet screams over the noise.

"What do you think?" I shout back.

"Good," she reaches down onto her vest and pulls out a hand grenade. I do the same. We pull the pins at the same time and launch them across the assembly line. The two explosions send out waves of deadly shrapnel and make quick work of the remaining TECs. Slowly, we emerge from behind our cover and look around the assembly line. One project remains under construction in front of us. It is long and cylindrical, about fifty yards long and two yards wide. Fins were in the process of being welded to the aft portion when the day's work ceased.

"It looks like some kind of missile, but I've never seen one this big before," Hatchet says without taking her eyes off of the device.

"I've read about these…" I mutter back to her. "But they haven't existed in almost three hundred years."

"What?"

"It looks like an ICBM: _Inter-Continental Ballistic Missile_. There used to be thousands of them scattered across the globe until some idiot finally decided to use one and touched off a firestorm that killed half the planet."

"What does it do?"

"They're meant to carry heavy warheads up into space, and then they come screaming back down onto the other side of the globe and detonate over an enemy target."

"Nuclear?" Hatchet asks.

"Usually, but not always."

"Didn't the Capitol and District 13 get into a stand-off using these things after the Dark Days?"

"They _did_ get into a nuclear stand-off, but all their missiles were low-powered and barely able to fire across Panem. No one could figure out how to build one that could push into space after the atmosphere was thinned-out by the Global War, but it looks like Ohm finally solved the problem."

"What are the TECs gonna use Nukes for?" Hatchet asks totally confused. "I thought they wanted our resources. If they irradiate the whole UDP, we'd be worthless to them."

"I have as much idea as you do right now…"

A burst of pistol fire slices through the air around us. A round finds Hatchet's right leg and she collapses next to me, screaming in pain. I dive for cover behind a control panel and pull her by her vest into safety with me.

"Hello there, God of War!" I hear Ohm scream from across the bay. "It is so good to see you again, old friend, and it seems that you brought a _goddess_ with you this time as well! Shame, shame, Ares. Does Mrs. Snow know you're out gallivanting around the world with another woman while she stays at home with the little one?"

I look down at Hatchet's leg, bright crimson spews from a gaping hole in her thigh. I immediately pull the bandana from her head and wrap it tightly around the wound, trying to stem the flow of blood. Her long, blonde hair falls into a mess around her shoulders.

"Dammit," she screams in pain. "Not like this, not now!" she repeats to herself.

"You're gonna be fine, Hatchet….Damn you, Rikard!" I scream across the bay.

"Oh come now, Ares," his artificial voice shoots back at me. "You didn't think it would be that easy did you? I always love giving you choices, remember? The sexy lumberjack's life or the man who's sworn revenge against you? Tick tock, tick tock!" The maniacal laughter I have grown to hate more than anything else in the world echoes all around me. I look over the top of the control panel to see him disappear into a hallway behind a door marked, "Primary Agent Testing."

"Sir, he hit the artery," Hatchet says growing more and more pale by the second. "I'm a dead woman. Go, go and get him!" I look down to see the bandana has become loose because it is saturated with blood. I reach down, grip its ends, and pull as tight as I can. Hatchet screams in pain again.

"That hurts!"

"Good, that means it's working."

"Sir, please," she says reaching up and gripping my vest with a blood-covered hand. "When you get back to the others, can you tell Ratchet something that I haven't been brave enough to tell him? Can you tell him…that _I love him_?"

"C'mon, Hatch," I say looking straight into her eyes. "You're more of a man than I am. Reach down, grab your lady-balls, and tell him yourself." I leap up to my feet, grab Hatchet's arm, and pull her onto my back.

"What the hell are you doing, Sir? He's getting away!"

"Remember that whole thing you said about you and me being replaceable? Yeah, I think that's bull…." I say running back toward the outside.

"Sir, if Ohm gets away I'm gonna kick your ass!"

"Only when Doc gets that leg of yours working again." I run back out into the night and see that Ratchet, Tiller, and Doc have pulled off a miracle. The entire prisoner population of the camp is assembled and ready to move in front of the barracks. A few of them have even picked up weapons from the fallen TECs and help pull guard around the others. I see my team speaking with a few of the prisoners and sprint up to them.

"Olivia!" Ratchet screams when he sees Hatchet on my back. I put her down as gently as I can in front of them. She has already passed out from blood loss by the time Doc gets to work stabilizing her.

"Don't worry, Ratch," Doc says replacing my improvised tourniquet with a real one. "It's a clean wound and she's not in shock. I'll give her my own blood if I have to."

"Just don't let her go, Man! Don't let her go!"

"Sergeant Hightower!" I scream into his face. "She's going to be fine," I say trying to calm him down. "Trust me, you _both_ will be fine," I flash him a glance and somehow he understands, "Now, are the rest of these people ready to move?"

"Yes Sir," Doc says without looking up from Hatchet's leg. He pulls out a syringe and sticks it into her arm. "Morphling mixed with antibiotics…she's gonna feel great when she wakes back up.

"I though you said you only used morphling as a last resort?" Ratchet says in a panic.

"Well, she's a friend. Thought I'd hook her up." Doc smiles at Ratchet who actually manages a little laugh. "We've found the mayors of the Districts and they've assembled their people into groups." He pulls an IV from his aide bag and starts a flow of saline into Hatchet's arm. "They're getting a roll call from everyone now, but there shouldn't be anyone missing because the factory shuts down at night. The TEC soldiers apparently like to drink themselves stupid after dark."

"Well, that explains a lot…Do we know of any prisoners that died in captivity?" The other three of them fall silent for a second.

"Yes Sir, Tiller says. Mayors were telling me that there were selections. Every few days, they'd pick a young healthy hostage and take them away into another part of the factory. None of them have been seen since."

"Alright then," I say feeling a burning rage rising inside me again. I pick myself up and turn back towards the factory.

"Where the hell you going, Sir?" Ratchet says to me.

"I'm going after Ohm. If the eagles arrive while I'm gone, leave me behind and get back to Britannia."

"Sir, at least let me go with you! I want payback for her."

"Don't worry, Ratchet, they'll be plenty of time for that later. This war's a long way from over…"


	23. Chapter 23

I run back into the factory with my rifle at the ready. I rapidly scan around the whole bay, unsure if Ohm has set another trap for me. The place seems deserted: the only sounds are the slow rattle of the chains that hang from the ceiling and the bubbling sizzle of the molten steel still in the furnace.

I dash across the bay toward the door marked, "Primary Agent Testing."

_ "Somehow, I really don't like the sound of that…"_

Without warning, gunshots ring out from a catwalk overlooking the steel furnace. I'm barely able to dive behind another control panel as a rain of fire pours down onto me. I catch a quick glimpse around the edge of control panel to see ten TEC soldiers lined up like a firing squad with perfect position over me. If I try to move to my left or right: I'm dead. If I try to return fire, I'm dead.

_"This is a great situation you've gotten yourself into, Ares. So what the hell are you going to do now?"_

I look around me, hoping for some kind of inspiration. Glancing over to a glass window right next to the door that Ohm ran through, my reflection stares back at me. For a moment, I pause to see the panic and fear in my eyes: the last desperate gaze of the prey caught in a trap. But then, something else catches my attention. The TECs standing on the catwalk are still firing away, but behind them is a huge boom crane attached to the ceiling that must be used to add fresh metal into the top of the furnace. It's massive cable chain and hook dangle just behind the TECs. I keep looking at the reflection in the window to see the glowing control panel that I'm hiding behind is labeled with a single phrase: "_Main Crane Control_."

_"Sorry guys, nothing personal…"_

I spin around and slam my palm down onto a glowing button above my head. A booming alarm begins ringing across the whole bay and the TECs instantly cease their fire.

"GET OFF THIS THING NOW!" Their leader shouts, but it's too late. The boom crane comes to life and starts moving toward the center of the bay. The hook slams into the bottom of the catwalk, ripping it off the wall. The end of the gangway falls straight into the boiling cauldron of molten steel and the TECs plunge into the furnace to be instantly incinerated. Their screaming makes my skin crawl, but I know that I didn't have a choice. It was their life…_or mine_.

I jump to my feet and fly through the door of Ohm's escape only a few feet away. I find myself in a long white hallway and placing my rifle into my shoulder, I slowly move forward. There is a door to my left. I kick it open and run inside. It is a small laboratory, filled with dozens of different beakers and test tubes of chemicals.

Across the hall, another room awaits. Inside is row after row of sealed plastic boxes filled with white laboratory rats. A few of them are still alive, but most of them lie motionless on the floor of their cage. I turn back into the hallway and come to a corner. I kneel down on the ground and fling my crouching body around the edge, scanning for enemies. All I find is a large pair of steel doors. One is marked with the biohazard symbol and the other is printed with the words, _"Human Subject Chamber: Authorized Personnel Only."_

My legs tremble with fear. With every fiber of my being, I know that I don't want to find out what's on the other side of this barrier, but I also know I don't have a choice. I stumble forward, keeping my rifle held high. When I am only inches away, I reach out with my left hand and grab the handle.

"_One…two….three!"_ I slam down the handle and push the doors open. I fly inside rapidly scanning all the corners. At first glance, the room appears to be empty. It is large, but still has the feeling of being very claustrophobic. A bank of control panels line the wall to my left while a raised platform to my right holds five computer workstations. Finally, jutting out from the far wall, is a large plastic chamber. I recognize it instantly from my childhood nightmares. It is the same as the one that killed _Subject E_…my great-aunt, Medea. This place is for testing the weapon that I prayed beyond all hope that I would never face again…_Shiver_.

The door to the chamber lies open. Inside is a steel chair with its back turned toward me…and a motionless prisoner sits still strapped to it.

"Hey," I shout out to the figure in the chair. "I'm here to help you. I'm from the UDP Defense Forces." There is no response. Slowly, I make my way toward the door of the chamber, hoping to see some sign of life from the chair, but there is none. "Can you hear me?" I say as I step inside the chamber. "Are you alright?" I reach forward, grab the edge of the chair, and spin it towards me. My heart freezes in my chest and I gasp for air as I see the mangled face of a man that stares back at me with the same agonizing expression that cursed Medea's young face so many years ago.

Gunshots ring out and slam into the plexiglass of the gas chamber wall behind me. I spin around to see Ohm standing behind the row of computer monitors holding a pistol. He fires again, attempting to shoot through the door of the gas chamber at me. Ironically enough, what saved my wife from drowning last year would have killed me. If this chamber had not been bullet-proof, I would be dead.

I whip around and duck down behind the plexiglass. Ohm continues to fire rounds that splatter harmlessly against the gas chamber wall. He runs out from behind the computers, trying to get a better shot, but just as he finds a clear path to my head, I hear exactly what I was hoping for:

"_Click…Click…_" Ohm is empty. I run out from the chamber and point my rifle directly at him.

"Drop it, Rikard!" I shout. He simply gets a bored look on his face and throws his pistol nonchalantly to the ground.

"You know, Ares, this artificial arm I've developed for myself is wonderful….but sometimes it lacks the finesse to be able to perform fine motor skills such as shooting a handgun."

"You didn't seem to have a problem when you hit Hatchet in the leg…."

"As you once said to me before, My Dear Ares, _I was aiming for you_."

"Guess this wasn't your lucky day then?"

"Obviously." He motions to the corpse in the gas chamber. "I see you've met my newest friend," he says with a psychopathic grin. "He has just been sitting there like that since I conducted my latest experiment this afternoon. Not a great conversationalist I suppose…"

"What happened to using Shiver only on Snows?"

"Oh, Ares, I changed my mind. I mean, why limit myself to only the one I wish to revenge myself upon when I can use it against the whole country that stood idly by while I was enslaved!" He pauses for a second. "Plus, my new employer pays much better than Driva ever did. In fact, with the help of a few volunteers such as this fine, but quiet young gentlemen, I've actually improved the recipe. It now breaks down into harmless vapors twice as fast while still retaining full lethality."

"Volunteers? They were innocent people, you sick bastard! They were innocent people that you helped steal from their homes, forced into slavery, and then murdered for your twisted, perverted enjoyment…"

"No one in Panem is innocent!" Ohm shouts back at me. "_No one_…Oh yes, they were all willing to throw off the chains of our old oppressors but as soon their comfortable lives returned they were all too happy to sell themselves to a different master in exchange for a tiny amount of comfort and the illusion that they had any personal choice in the direction of their lives.

That's why my old associate was so pathetic. Money, money, money…that's all he ever thought about. It wasn't until I convinced him that his past crimes could be redeemed by joining in my little quest to eliminate the Sixteen that he was even willing to help me."

"What are you talking about, Rikard?" I ask angrily.

"Oh Ares, for such an intelligent man, you certainly are stupid. Did it ever occur to you once in the last year exactly how I was able to move an army of men and materiel to a remote island in the South Pacific without ever being noticed by the authorities? How I was able to move secretly across the entire nation of Panem and kidnap people who were being watched twenty-four hours a day without drawing any suspicion? I had an assistant who always made sure the books were properly cooked and certain itineraries were always doctored."

"Who was it, Rikard?"

"Don't you already know? I mean, he was number two at Ohm Defense Industries and now I believe he's even moved into my old job…"

"_No…It's Gale Hawthorne" _

"But worry not, My Dear Ares. I've found him far too stupid and conceited to continue to serve a purpose in my life. Besides, he'll be dead soon anyway…_they all will_."

"What do you mean?" I ask angrily.

"Questions, questions…Well, I'm afraid I'll have to wait for our next meeting to answer more things for you, Ares."

"They're won't be a next meeting, Rikard."

"Why, what do you mean?"

"I'm not going to make the same mistake again…"

"And what mistake was that?"

"Letting you live…"

"My Dear Ares, I…" He doesn't finish the sentence. I fire a single round straight into his forehead. It punches a hole clean through his skull and sends pink mist floating in the air behind his white hair like a halo. Ohm's eyes grow wide and he collapses face first to the ground.

I walk over to the corpse of the man who has tormented my friends and family for the past two years. The same man who has started a war that could cost millions of lives for his own petty revenge and greed. He might have been a valuable source of information alive, but the world is safer now that he's dead. Justice, at last, has been served. I roll the body over, reach down, and grab Ohm's new Reevox collar from around his neck.

"_That's two…" _

I run through the factory and back outside to meet the others. They are still waiting in front the barracks for help to arrive. Ratchet cradles an unconscious Hatchet gently in his arms as Doc and Tiller continue to keep order among the newly liberated prisoners. Many of them are starting to become restless that they are still in the camp.

"Where's Ohm?" Ratchet asks nervously as he sees me run up. I just hold up Ohm's Reevox collar.

"Let's just say he won't be a problem anymore."

"Hell yeah, Sir!"

"Let's not pop the corks yet," I say looking down at the sleeping Hatchet. "How's she doing?" Doc comes up from behind me. "She's stable and ready for transport. Stopped the bleeding but I don't want her moving around too much. Could cause the wound to open back up again."

"What about the Eagles? Have we heard anything from them?"

"Negative, Sir..." Tiller says very frustrated.

"_Dammit, Angus! Where are your people at? If we don't move soon the TECs could regroup and…"_

From down the road, comes the roar of dozens of trucks barreling toward us.

We're too late. The TECs have realized that our hovercraft's destruction was only a distraction. Now, they're streaming back toward the camp ready for a fight. Soon, we'll be totally outmanned, outgunned, and out of time.


	24. Chapter 24

"Get back behind the barracks!" I shout to everyone. Screams erupt as the crowd surges between the concrete blockhouses hoping to find some shelter from the coming TEC storm.

Headlights appear in the distance as I help Ratchet lift Hatchet and carry her limp body behind the corner of the nearest building.

"Careful!" Doc shouts as we place her back on the ground. He quickly checks her wound to make sure that she doesn't begin to bleed out again. The hundreds of men, women, and children around us drown out my thoughts with screams of terror and misery. Each and every one of them felt the warm embrace freedom again for the briefest of seconds, but now it seems that they will soon be returned to slavery…or _worse_.

The roar of the TEC trucks comes right up to the fence surrounding the compound. Bright headlights shine into the complex, illuminating the whole area in sickly white light. As we hide in the shadows of the concrete barracks, I get the distinct impression that this is what a mouse feels like when he knows he is hopelessly cornered by a cat. We hear hundreds of soldiers dismount from the back of the vehicles and take their positions, cocking their weapons with a symphony of sinister and foreboding clicks.

"Where the hell are they?" Ratchet screams as the horde of civilians pushes against him. He bends down, trying to shield Hatchet's body from the crushing onslaught.

"Probably couldn't make it through the TEC air defense grid," Tiller says staring up into the empty sky. "Engaged by TEC attack ships and shot down."

"Either way, that doesn't help us out much," Doc says as he finishes re-bandaging Hatchet's wound.

"Or them…" I say as I look to the terrified mass of humanity around us. Their fear is contagious and I grow weak as I realize the situation has become a hopeless last stand.

_"UDP War Criminals…"_ an officer says from outside of the fence over the shrill blast of a bull-horn._"There is no hope of escape. You are completely surrounded by the brave forces of the Trans-European Commonwealth in service to the Man Among Men, The Supreme Lawgiver, Pierre Grosfrere."_

"Well, he sounds like a real friendly fellow…" Doc says clutching his weapon to his chest. I look over to see a young girl, no more than nine or ten years old huddled against her mother's chest. She is trembling with fear as silent tears run down her face. Her mother gently strokes her back, trying to keep her calm. It seems pointless to me considering the circumstances, but this single gesture of peace seems to do more to assure the young girl that things will be alright more than any amount of guns, knives, or bombs that my team has arrived with. My eyes meet the mother's eyes and I am torn by the deep look of betrayal and sorrow she flashes back to me. It is as if she is saying, "What right did you have to come here at all if you only increased our suffering?" But despite her quiet loathing of me, she continues to lovingly calm her child in the face of the entire world's hatred.

_"If you throw down your weapons and end your pointless insurrection….I assure you that the Supreme Lawgiver in his infinite mercy and sense of justice will forgive your current crimes with only the minimum loss of life necessary to make amends…."_

The mother and child continue to burn into my consciousness. Suddenly, they transform in my mind from strangers into Katniss and Prim. The old Mockingjay is angry that the new Mockingjay has failed in his task.

_"I told you to fight, Ares,"_ Katniss' words echo through my brain. _"I told you to fight…but not for victory, not for revenge…I told you to fight so that you could come back to us. I told you to fight so that the innocent could love…love in peace that is free from the hatred and oppression of evil men…" _I look down to my chest. The Mockingjay pin shimmers in the reflected light of the TEC headlights. _"Are you going to give up and surrender…or are you going to sacrifice everything so that they breathe free of the tyrant's lash for a few more precious seconds?"_

"What are we gonna do, Boss?" Tiller asks staring at my blank expression.

_"UDP War Criminals! This is your last chance. Surrender now!"_

I lift up my rifle. My finger finds the release lever and I let my half-empty magazine fall to the ground. Doc, Tiller, and Ratchet look at me in utter disbelief.

"Sir, what are you doing?" Ratchet screams at me.

Now, at the end of it all, I have come to the most beautiful revelation of my life. If I live another thousand years, every one of those minutes will be in vain if I let that mother's simple gesture of love to her child go to waste. If I surrender in the hope of living, and force them back under the yolk of oppression, than every ounce of faith and love ever placed in me by Lizzy, Katniss, Peeta, General Sturm, and all the others will mean nothing and I will prove Ohm correct…I would become a monster…

I look straight at the rest of my team and say:

"Tonight, the odds are not in our favor…._to hell with the odds!" _I reach down to my vest, pull out a fresh magazine, and slam it into the receiver of my rifle. I leap up to my feet, spin out from the corner of the barracks, and unload my weapon on full automatic in the direction of the TEC officer's voice.

_"AHHHHHHH!" _he screams into the bull-horn as his body is riddled with bullets. I dive back into cover just as the entire TEC army opens fire into the concrete walls of the barracks. Doc, Tiller, Ratchet, and I stick our weapons out from behind the corner and return fire. The few prisoners with weapons push their way up to the front and join us in fighting back. Both sides exchange volleys for a few furious seconds until….

A deafening roar screams in from the sky and the TEC front line explodes in a brilliant curtain of fire. We look up to see a British attack hovercraft roar by directly over our heads. The confused TECs point their weapons up into the sky but soon fall under a steel rain of shells as an entire British squadron begins circling the wire fence of complex.

"Tiller, Ratchet!" I scream over the maelstrom. "Mark the LZ!"

"Cover us!" Tiller screams as he runs out into the open area between the barracks and the factory. Doc and I leap out from behind the blockhouses and furiously start unloading our weapons in the direction of the disoriented enemy.

Tiller and Ratchet reach the open area and begin pulling flare after flare from their pockets. They slam the tubes into their hips, igniting a brilliant orange flame, before they drop the markers into a pre-arranged pattern on the ground. When their job is done, they run back to us and we begin to gather the prisoners together.

"Get ready to move!" I scream as I scan the crowd. I find the mother and her child and scoop them both into my arms, shielding their bodies with my own as a few TEC rounds continue to pepper the wall over our heads. However, the enemy soon knows that the fight against such a fierce aerial barrage is useless. The survivors try to flee into the woods, but are quick prey to the marauding Brits in the sky.

Four massive British transports appear from the north and touch down precisely on Tiller and Ratchet's Landing Zone. Their ramps drop and teams of British commandos pour from their hulls. Half run toward us and the other half joins in the hunt for the remaining TECs.

"Let's go!" I shout to the others when I see the coast is clear. I lift the mother and her child to their feet and get them moving towards the transports. I look back to see Ratchet and Doc lift Hatchet and follow me. Tiller rallies the mass of prisoners behind him and soon all of the UDP refugees are on their way to freedom. I run up the ramp of the nearest hovercraft and deposit the mother and child safely in the troop compartment. I immediately turn to run back outside but feel a hand grab mine. I turn to see the mother, holding onto me, tears streaming down her face.

"Thank you," she finally manages to get out through her breathless lips.

"No," I say quickly kneeling down in front of her and her daughter. "Thank you." I lean forward and kiss her hand before breaking away and running back down the ramp past the crowd of other prisoners climbing aboard the transport. I look around and see that the other transports are fast filling up as well.

In the sky over our heads, two more British Squadrons of attack hovercraft have appeared and are circling the entire valley. I can hear an air raid siren blast through the night from the village a mile away and searchlights futilely scan the sky.

Tiller and Doc appear behind me.

"Where's Ratchet?' I ask.

"Back on the first hovercraft," Doc says. "He's making sure Hatchet is safely secured and good to move."

The three of us do a quick search of the entire complex, ensuring that no one is left behind before we rally back in front of the transports. A British commando runs up to me.

"Sir, everyone's aboard! We have to go now!"

"Tiller! Take the transport on the far end. Doc, take the third one, and I'll take the second one. Ratchet is already on board the first. I'll see you back on the ground in Britannia."

"Roger, Sir!"

"Got it!" We all run to our respective transports and climb aboard. I turn to the British crew chief in the troop compartment.

"Hand me that headset." He tosses it to me and I quickly place it over my head. As I look down the massive bay loaded to capacity with a sea of humanity rejoicing in their deliverance, I speak into my microphone.

"All Ark elements, this is Mockingjay. Last passengers are aboard. Let's set sail for the Promised Land…"

_"Acknowledged, Mockingjay. This is Ark 1. Moving."_

The ramp closes, the engines engage, and we lift straight into the air. As I feel us flying toward the north, I key my microphone again.

"Ratchet, Doc, Tiller, respond in sequence…"

_"Ratchet, Acknowledge."_

_"This is Doc, Acknowledge."_

_"Tiller, Acknowledge."_

"Roger, we're headed out over the valley. Commence Operation Prometheus." I turn to the British Crew Chief again and point toward a large crate sitting next to an outer door. We stand next to it and fasten ourselves to the frame of the hovercraft with safety harnesses. When I'm ready, I signal to the Crew Chief who releases the door and slides it open. A blast of cold wind fills the troop entire compartment. We push the crate toward the open door, knock open the top latches, and push it out into the sky.

As soon as the blast of wind hits the crate, it breaks apart releasing thousands of paper leaflets over the TEC countryside below. I hold onto the sides of the doorway and lean out into the night. I see that each of the other three transports have released their messages as well. I look to the valley floor five thousand feet below to see a blizzard of a paper falling onto the little TEC village.

It was actually Angus who came up with the idea for the leaflets, but he asked me to write the text:

_Noble Comrades of the Trans-European Commonwealth!_

_Today, we have proven that your Supreme Lawgiver is not invincible._

_Today, he was defeated by a group of warriors who fought only for the liberty of others!_

_Do not starve while your oppressors continue to feast!_

_Do not toil while your oppressors continue to sit idle!_

_Do not suffer while your oppressors continue to rejoice!_

_Rise up and join the fight for freedom!_

I look to the horizon and see that two of the British attack squadrons have taken their positions to escort the transports back over the Britannic Channel. One squadron, however, remains for the final part of the mission. I speak into my microphone for the last time.

"Raptors, this is Mockingjay."

_"Mockingjay, Raptor 1, Go ahead."_

"Raptor 1, the Arks are clear."

_"Roger, Mockingjay, lining up for our attack run now…"_

Back over the prison camp, the last squadron forms a line in the sky and streaks toward their target. They arm their weapons, and at precisely the right moment, release a hail of firebombs over the entire complex. In less than ten seconds, the barracks, the factory, and the body of Rikard Ohm are all turned to ash.


	25. Chapter 25

As the sun rises over the island, the British squadrons streak through the London skies, spinning and rolling their hovercraft in celebration of victory. Crowds form below in the cobblestone streets and look up in amazement at the marvelous display of acrobatics. The Brits manning the air defense batteries around the city begin to scream and chant in triumph and soon are joined by the thousands of bewildered civilians who know nothing of what has transpired on the continent…_yet_. All they know is that their nation has taken to the skies once again, and proudly flies free over their sovereign land.

The four transports make a slow, deliberate approach to a large pad at the edge of the river near the Tower. No sooner has their landing gear touched the ground, when the elevators engage, lowering their entire hulls into the tunnels below. When we reach the hangar, the ramps drop and I am met by a huge mass of people screaming in utter exultation. The bewildered UDP prisoners slowly stumble down the ramps into the waiting arms of their new allies. Gifts of food and drink are liberally passed out among the newly freed souls and British doctors and nurses run forward to care for the sick and wounded. I jump above the heads of the crowd and see two British medics carrying Hatchet on a stretcher. Ratchet walks beside her, holding her still unconscious hand in his.

"Ratchet!" I scream over and over again, but he cannot hear me over the celebration and soon disappears with the medic team into a hallway. Before I can turn back around, I feel two massive arms wrap around me and lift me off my feet. I look down and see Angus' face, his white teeth glittering in his grin from ear to ear.

"Ares! _You crazy bastard_, you did it! You actually did it!"

"Please, Angus, put me down. I can't breathe." He laughs and lowers me back to the ground. When I finally catch my breath, he slaps a firm hand on my back.

"The Techies are in utter chaos right now," he says leading me through the crowd back toward Tower Control. The raid took them by total surprise. They think they're being invaded! Grosfrere is mobilizing forces from Iberia all the way to the Baltic."

"Isn't that a bad thing?"

"No, you daft fool! Don't you see? He's wet his pants like a wee little girl and is running scared. You've shown all of them just what the hell we can do and the Techies are on the defensive. For the first time in two centuries, we're calling this fight."

"Sorry to be such a downer, Angus, but this war isn't over. We've not yet begun to fight."

"Dammit man," he says bringing us to a halt. "Look around you. You've given these people something they've never had in their entire lives: _hope! _All the fighting may not be over…but by George, we're gonna celebrate anyway." He starts leading me again.

I just smile as I walk at his side.

"Really, Angus, you can surely celebrate for the both of us. I have business I need to take care of, I've got a wounded soldier to check on, and then I have to call President Holmes back in the Capitol to give her my report…"

"Ah, I've already talked to her and told her that you whipped the Techies like a bunch of frightened pups. I also said that you'd call her tomorrow after you've had the chance to get some rest."

"Really?"

"Hell no, Laddie! We're gonna get so pissed tonight that we'll wake up face down in the gutter tomorrow morning! I've already told Mrs. Marbury down at _The Three Foxes_ to open a bottle of Scotch she's been saving that's older than my grandfather. I'm sure as blazes not gonna drink it alone."

Later that afternoon, I lean out the window of Hatchet's room and strike a match against the wooden shutters. As it lights, I place the flame at the end of my cigar and puff till it comes alive. I look back to Hatchet, still lying asleep in her bed, and blow a cloud of smoke right towards her. As the vapors dance under her nose, a smile creeps across her face and her eyes first flutter, then slowly open.

"Well, good morning, Sergeant…or should I say good afternoon. Doc said he'd kill me if I tried that, but I knew it would work on you." She pushes herself up as she sees the cigar.

"Where did you get that?" she asks hungrily, savoring the aroma.

"Brought them with us. _District 11 Special Reserve._ I was going to save them for the end of the war, but figured that we could burn one now considering the circumstances. Want a puff?"

"Oh Lord, _do I_." she says with a smile as she brushes her hair out of her face. I laugh as I bend down and hand her the stogie. She places it in her mouth, closes her eyes, and breathes in deeply. After holding the smoke in her mouth for a few satisfying seconds, she blows it back out into the air. "_That is absolutely fantastic_," she says handing it back to me.

"I only keep the best and believe me, these aren't easy to get," I say as I lean out the window again and continue to smoke. "Just promise you won't tell Doc or Ratchet."

"Your secret's safe with me, Sir. Hey, speaking of those clowns, where are they?"

"Asleep. They refused to leave your side at first, but I ordered them to go and get some rest. Ratchet only agreed when I promised that I would wake him up the second you regained consciousness….but don't worry, I'll let you have your peace for a little while longer."

"Thanks…" Suddenly, Hatchet remembers the events in the factory and gets a serious look on her face. "What happened to Ohm?" I walk back over to her bedside and place his Reevox collar on her nightstand.

"You can go ahead and keep that. I still have one back home." The serious look on her face turns to relief until she finally looks down at herself and realizes she is only dressed in a simple white linen nightgown.

"Sir…_what am I wearing_?" she asks nervously trailing off.

"Courtesy of Mrs. Marbury, Doc said that it would be better considering the wound in your leg."

"And how did I get dressed in it?"

"Mrs. Marbury again…Doc assisted, of course, considering that the only thing holding your thigh together right now is a couple of stitches and a lot of good luck. He_ is_ a medical professional after all."

Hatchet's eyes close in embarrassment and she collapses back down onto her pillow.

"Great," she says blowing an errant strand of blonde out of her face. "That means half the team has now seen me naked."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better. I'm married and Tiller doesn't seem like the jealous type."

"Not really…"

"No offense, but after years of watching reruns of your mother, I would figure that it wouldn't bother you that much."

"Believe it or not, I'm a little bit more modest than she is." Her eyes shoot open again as she remembers something else that happened in the factory. She bolts up and stares at me in terror.

"Easy Sergeant! Remember, your wound. I don't want you to bleed out now."

"Sir, what did you say to Ratchet about what I asked you to tell him?" Despite my best efforts, I get a bit of a bemused look on my face.

"Don't worry. I didn't tell him a damn thing."

"Good," she says relaxing a little bit.

"You know, it's really none of my damn business…but I still have to say it. _It's ok to be in love, Olivia_." She just sighs and rolls over to face the wall.

"Not when your mother in Johanna Mason…"

"But, isn't she married to your father?" I say confused. Hatchet rolls back over and stares at me again.

"Yes, but only because she's terrified of being alone…and she wanted a child. As she puts it, she's _'fond of'_ my father, but definitely not in love with him."

"And he knows this?"

"As I learned growing up, love doesn't have to be a two-way street." Hatchet pauses. I don't know why she's chosen to open up to me, but I don't want her to stop. She needs to say this to somebody. "My mother raised me to be a fighter: _kill first, ask questions later_. President Snow…" Suddenly, she stops mid-sentence as if she's afraid of offending me.

"No, you can go ahead and say it," I say calmly reassuring her.

"President Snow took away everyone she ever loved…now, I'm the only real attachment she has left.

I love my mother, but I couldn't live like that anymore: treated like some kind of security blanket. That's why I joined the Defense Forces…I had to get away from her and live my own life. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Olivia, I do." The conversation pauses for a few awkward seconds. "Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?"

"Might as well, Sir. Everything else we've talked about has been."

"Why Ratchet? I mean I thought you_ hated_ him?" Hatchet just laughs.

"You really don't know women, do you, Sir?" I'm somewhat stung by this last comment but keep it to myself.

"I guess not…"

"Everyone in my life…including myself…has always been this jigsaw puzzle of emotional baggage that it takes a shovel to dig to the bottom to, but with Clint, what you see is what you get. Sometimes, he's a fool. Others, he's a genius…but no matter what, he's always himself and..."

"You love that…"

"Exactly."

"Again, not really my business…but don't you think he deserves to know that?" Hatchet sighs again.

"Yeah…he does."

Suddenly, the strangest sound I have ever heard comes wafting in from the open window.

"What is that?" Hatchet asks confused.

"It sounds like music," I say looking down to the street. Dozens of people below are running toward the Tower.

"Music? It sounds like someone trying to inflate a cat with a set of bellows."

"Stay here and rest," I say running toward the door.

"Sir Wait!" Hatchet says.

"What?"

"If you're leaving, can I finish that cigar?" With a grin, I hand it to her before dashing out to the street.

I fall in next to a British woman and shout to her over the commotion.

"What is that noise?"

"Bagpipes!" she says excitedly.

"Bag what?"

"Bagpipes! It's the highlanders! They're coming down from the mountains by the thousands!"

We reach the Tower and I push through the crowd. I find Angus staring down the main road to the north at an approaching sea of wool, leather, and plaid: thousands of men and women carrying the strangest mix of weapons known to man: everything from modern assault weapons, to ancient wooden rifles, all the way down to spears and shields. They are led by a man riding the largest horse that I have ever seen. Standing next to it, I would barely come up to this animal's shoulder.

"Well, there you are, Ares!" Angus says delighted. "I was about to send for you so you could meet our guests."

"Angus," I say leaning over to him. "Why are they all wearing plaid dresses?"

"_They're kilts_…not dresses, Laddie. And they would kill you where you stood if you ever said that to their faces. A highlander can split a man in two lengthwise without batting an eyelash."

"Thanks for the head's up…" I say nervously trailing off.

The leader of the highlanders stops his horse in front of us and dismounts to the ground. If Angus is considered tall, this man is a giant. He towers over us and I have to bend my neck to look him in the face. The only weapon he carries is a gigantic broadsword strapped to the back of his leather armor. It is easily as long as I am tall. His matted blonde hair dangles below his shoulders and is tied with strips of plaid wool that match the pattern on his kilt. He also sports a fierce blonde beard that is braided into knots.

"_Britannia Gu Brath_," the giant says raising his right hand in a gesture of friendship.

"_Britannia Gu Brath_," Angus responds.

"So, I hear that there's gonna be a war…" the giant says. His accent is so thick that I can barely understand him.

"There's been a war for two centuries," Angus responds.

"Aye, but now I understand you're actually gonna fight it…"

"You've heard right," Angus says not giving an inch to the giant's imposing presence.

"Well, we highlanders _love_ a good fight."

_"Then welcome to the war."_


	26. Chapter 26

_"Angus wasn't kidding about that scotch,"_ I say trying to block out the pain in my throbbing head. I found out about halfway through the bottle at _The Three Foxes _last night that the name of the giant highlander was Seamus the Bruce, _Chief of the Highlander Clan and Heir to the Throne of Alba_. Though I'm not really sure what any of that actually means, I did learn that it is very unwise to engage in a drinking contest with people who weigh almost twice as much as you do.

Now, as I sit hung over and barely coherent in Tower Control with Angus, Seamus, and a few other high ranking Brits, I am vaguely aware that Angus is thanking President Holmes up on the screen for sending Britannia such capable professionals as my team. Amelia and Gale sit on either side of her at the table back in Central Briefing.

"Well, I believe most of the thanks lies with General Snow and his operators, doesn't it General?" President Holmes says expecting a response from me. I just sit and hold my head in my hands, doing my best to stay upright and not vomit on the floor.

"_Doesn't it General!_" President Holmes repeats with much more emphasis. Amelia sighs and Gale rubs his eyes with his hands.

"Laddie…" Angus whispers nudging me a bit with his elbow.

"What…" I say snapping back to a slightly higher stage of consciousness.

"I believe she's talking to you…." I awkwardly look up to the screen and see President Holmes glaring down at me.

"Ah yes….my team is very skilled," I say mumbling a bit. "But I could not have accomplished anything," I say pointing towards Angus, "if it was not for the stalwart and steadfast support of Panem's newest and closest ally, the Sovereign Island of Britannia…."

Angus can no longer hold back his laughter.

"Very…diplomatic of you there, Ares," he says leaning back in his chair.

"Are all people from Panem as much a lightweight as you, General?" Seamus asks me in his thick highland accent. "I mean really, you barely had a bottle and a half."

"A bottle and a half!" President Holmes screams across the world at me. I turn bright red with embarrassment.

"Ah, Madame President," Angus says turning to her. "Don't be too hard on your boyo here. I told him that if he didn't match me and Chief Seamus here drink for drink that it would be considered an insult to all Britannia. General Snow was just doing his best to maintain good relations between our nations." President Holmes looks like she doesn't believe that for one second, but a grin creeps across her face when she realizes that my behavior has done much more to cement relations between the UDP and Britannia than harm it.

"Alright then, War Chief McFadden, as long as General Snow was doing it for the purpose of diplomacy…but please, in the future can you ensure that he is at least coherent for these briefings?"

"Aye, Ma'am," Angus says still laughing a bit. "We'll make a real drinker out of him yet."

"Lord, I hope not," I say trying to lighten the mood a bit. Everyone on both sides of the Atlantic laughs except for Amelia. I look up to her annoyed face up on the screen. She slowly shakes her head back and forth, obviously disapproving of me drinking myself into oblivion. For some reason, when she stares at me I turn redder than ever.

"Last night's celebratory shenanigans aside, General," President Holmes says returning to business, "can you give me a brief of your latest report?"

"Yes Ma'am," I say leaning forward over a stack of files on the table in front of me. "Despite the injury sustained by Sergeant Sawbleyde and the targeted loss of the prototype stealth hovercraft, the operation was a resounding success. We were able to rescue 1,517 of the original 1,892 hostages taken during the initial attack by the TEC. We are working with both British and UDP authorities to find a way to transport them back to Panem as soon as possible.

According to the Mayors of the Districts, the 375 hostages that did not survive the ordeal were lost to either malnutrition, work-related accidents, or experimental selection."

"And are you absolutely sure that the experiments were related to bio-chemical warfare research?" Gale asks me in a tone that is somewhere between skepticism and nervousness.

"Yes, Mr. Hawthorne," I say glaring straight back at his image on the screen. "I'm afraid I was witness to the tragic aftermath of one of those tests myself when I dispatched Mr. Ohm in his laboratory. The details of that exchange are listed in my written report that I forwarded to you last night, Ma'am."

"Yes, I have it here in front of me," President Holmes replies looking down at her notes. "It appears that we may be facing a nightmare scenario here…" she says with the utmost seriousness.

"Yes, Madam President," I reply to her. "I'm afraid that we have to assume that despite the destruction of the factory, the TECs may now have access to Shiver."

"And what about a possible delivery system?" she asks both to me and Gale sitting next to her.

"I know that General Snow reported that he and Sergeant Sawbleyde witnessed the construction of Inter-Continental Ballistic Missiles in the factory," Gale says, "but I find this scenario very hard to believe. Just looking at the sheer physics involved in constructing a missile that can reach orbital velocity now with the degradation of the troposphere and stratosphere, it is extraordinarily difficult, if not impossible. The thrust to weight ratio of any booster rocket would have to be enormous. I know for a fact that Mr. Ohm had been working on that problem since before his transformation into an Avox without any success. Even the General's esteemed grandfather understood that the age of orbital warfare ended centuries ago." My fists under the briefing table ball up in anger. "In my professional opinion, the most likely target for any kind of weapons payload and missile delivery system that the TECs have developed would be Britannia, both due to the island's proximity to the probably launch sites and long history of conflict with the Trans-European Commonwealth."

"They can launch those damn missiles at us if they want to," Angus says angrily. "They've been trying hit us since the very beginning, but in two-hundred years, not a single Techie rocket or missile has hit a target on the island. Our ballistic defense shield will track and destroy those things before they even get within one hundred miles of our shores."

I slam my fists on the table in front of me, getting everybody's attention.

"With all due respect to Mr. Hawthorne's professional opinion, we cannot just assume that Ohm has not figured out a solution to the atmospheric question. According to the debriefs we've conducted with the prisoners, fourteen completed missiles were shipped from the factory before it was destroyed. That means there are_ fourteen _potential catastrophic killers on the loose somewhere on the European continent that we must find and destroy before it is too late."

"You concerns are noted, General Snow," President Holmes says trying to calm me down. "Captain Flagg," she says turning to Amelia. "I believe that your intelligence team is already working on that issue?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Amelia says, "unfortunately our ability to gather reliable intelligence in the TEC is still extremely limited. We just haven't been able to independently confirm where those missiles could be."

"What about your tunnel into the mainframe?" I ask hopefully.

"Everything relating to the missiles, including potential launch sites or targets is completely encrypted. There's no way that I can actively attempt to hack into that area of the database without tipping them off that we're inside. Losing that link could be disastrous."

"I ask that you give us time, Ares," President Holmes says trying to reassure me. "We'll find them."

"Hopefully, before they find us." I mutter without looking up at her.

"Just one more thing, General…" Driva says beginning to trail off.

"Yes, Ma'am?"

"You said in your report that you and Ohm engaged in a conversation before you dispatched him, but you fail to mention at all what that conversation was. I hope that there were no other matters of national security that you didn't feel the need to share."

"No, Madame President," I say firmly. "Everything relevant was in my report. The words that Ohm and I exchanged were concerned more with a few _personal _epiphanies." I stare directly at Gale as I speak. He notices immediately and I can see he is worried I have found out the secret of his collaboration.

"Very well," President Holmes says, obviously still not completely reassured. "I trust in your judgment, General Snow. Just be sure that you don't let your 'personal epiphanies' interfere with your mission." I look over to Amelia who has an extremely concerned look on her face, but I discreetly nod letting her know she shouldn't be worried.

"Ma'am, I would never dream of it."

"Alright then, I think I've heard enough. Please, wish the rest of your team my sincerest congratulations and Sergeant Sawbleyde a speedy recovery. Rest now, but soon I'll need you all your best again."

"Yes, Ma'am, and I wouldn't worry about Sergeant Sawbleyde too much. She's already back to her old self…._If what I heard this morning through the wall of my room is any indication…" _I think silently to myself. "I also promised that I would tell you that she is still doing the job you gave to her."

"Glad to hear it," President Holmes says before sitting up from the table in Central Briefing and excusing herself. Gale is about to join her, but I speak to him directly before the transmission is terminated.

"Mr. Hawthorne," I say nonchalantly. "Would you mind joining me on a private transmission now? I have a few things that I'd like to discuss with you." Gale looks at me nervously but does his best to cover up his discomfort.

"No, it won't be a problem." He turns to Amelia. "Captain Flagg, do you mind patching this link through to the secure terminal in my office?" Amelia looks at me concerned, but another nod from me and she reluctantly accepts.

"It won't be a problem, Sir," she says artificially upbeat. "Just give me a few minutes."

"I'll be with you in a second," he says disappearing off camera.

"Angus, do you mind if I use your office terminal?" I ask.

"No, Laddie," he says. "Maggie, patch this through upstairs."

"Right away, Sir." Angus turns back to me.

"What's this about? I get the feeling you won't exactly be making small talk."

"Let's just call it _unfinished business _and leave it at that."

A few minutes later, I sit one on one with Gale. We stare through the screens at each other until finally he breaks the silence.

"What's this about, Snow?"

"Just tell me why you did it, Gale?"

"I don't know what you're talking about…" his face immediately betrays him.

"The hell you don't," I say back angrily. "You know that Ohm revealed everything to me before I put an extra hole in his face."

"If you're gonna turn me in, just do it. I don't have to explain myself to you."

"No, you don't….but if you do, I won't turn you in."

"What?" he asks confused.

"This has nothing to do with the authorities. It is between _you and me_, Hawthorne." He leans back in his chair and looks down at my chest.

"Isn't it obvious?" I realize he's staring at the Mockingjay pin. "I mean, you seem to love her as much as I do."

"There's a few gaps in that sequence of logic, Gale. How exactly does loving Katniss lead to you conspiring with a terrorist to murder innocent people?"

"They didn't seem innocent to me at the time…."

"What about my wife? Did you know he was going to take her as well?" I say getting angrier.

"No! I thought it would just be the Sixteen! I didn't know he had something special planned for you."

"You still haven't answered my question yet, Gale." Suddenly, tears begin to fall from his eyes.

"I….I…."

"_Why did you do it?_ Answer me, dammit!"

"Because I killed her sister! The one person she cared about more than anybody else on the planet and I killed her!"

"Prim?" I say in quiet confusion. "This is about Prim?"

"Two things kept the fire that I loved so much about Katniss alive. The first was the desire to protect Prim, and the second was the desire to get revenge on Snow. She never got to take that revenge because of my foolish mistake trusting Coin."

"So, you thought that if you helped Ohm get his so-called revenge…"

"Then I would be fighting for the Katniss I lost so many years ago."

He stares at me defiantly, expecting some sort of angry rant or accusation from me, but none comes. Finally, after what seems like an eternity, I manage a response.

"Alright, listen closely, Hawthorne. You're right, I do love Katniss, but I've learned that she isn't the same person she was two decades ago. Your Katniss is _dead_. She died right there in front of the Presidential Mansion when those parachutes went off." I can tell this last statement wounds him deeply. "The Katniss I care about: the one who gave me this pin, doesn't need revenge anymore. What she needs is _peace_. Killing people ain't gonna do a _damn_ thing to help her.

So, since you obviously didn't know about her new self, I'll give you one free pass. I hereby absolve you of all your crimes. You're in the clear." He seems confused by my benevolence.

"Why would you do that? Just ignore everything I did."

"_I'm not._ I just have no urge to continue this pointless cycle of revenge. Ohm's death was justice enough for me. However, let me make one thing absolutely clear to you: If you _ever_ even think about harming me or my family again….the last thing you ever see will be me putting the gun to your head."


	27. Chapter 27

Days pass and routine sets in. Hatchet begins to make a remarkable recovery and even begins hobbling around crutches with the help of Ratchet and Doc. Angus and I begin to create a training plan to turn the mass of Britannic guards and highland warriors into a cohesive military. Finally, with the help of Amelia back in Panem, I pull off something that I have been looking forward to for weeks. Angus has Maggie give me a private video terminal that I set up in my room back in the _The Three Foxes_. At the appointed hour, I make the call across the globe.

The static transforms into Lizzy and Octavian, sitting in front of an open window in the Odair family cottage by the sea. As she bounces our son on her knee, the brilliant morning sun dancing off the waves behind her creates the effect of an angelic halo around her head. I have not seen their faces since I put them on the train almost two months ago, and I gasp at how much Octavian has grown. His beautiful sea-green eyes look straight at me and his reddish brown hair has grown long and wild. I'm so overcome by the emotions of finally seeing them that I can only get out one phrase.

"_Hey, you…_" I say choking up a little bit.

"Hey," Lizzy says back to me, her eyes tearing up as well. "Look, it's daddy!" she says rocking Octavian, trying to get him to look at the screen. He just buries his head in her chest. "Sorry, he's just a little cranky from being up this early…"

"It's ok," I say touching my hand to my screen. Lizzy touches her screen as well and we pretend for a brief moment that we can hold each other across the miles.

"The news won't stop talking about how you rescued the hostages," Lizzy says proudly. "Glad to see that you're keeping busy." We both laugh a little.

"It was a team effort," I say with a grin. "The British are a fantastic people. Different, but somehow still the same as us. If there's one thing good that will come out of this war, it's that our two nations will come together in friendship…"

"That's good…" Lizzy says before taking a long pause. "The news also said that you got him…is it true?" she asks hopefully.

I touch her face on the screen again, somehow praying for the miracle that I could feel the warmth of her skin at this moment.

"He's gone, Baby. We will never have to worry about Rikard Ohm again."

"Are you sure this time?" She says fighting back terror in her voice.

"_Absolutely sure_," I say with an iron conviction that instantly causes her tension to disappear.

"Wonderful," she says looking down to Octavian who is still not cooperating with her. He writhes and fidgets trying to turn away from the screen. "Do you hear that? Daddy is making it safe for us," she says trying to look him in the face, but he continues to turn away. "I don't know what the problem is. He's not usually this bad…"

"It's ok, I'm just happy to see him," I say softly with a smile. "How are you little guy?" I say trying to get his attention. "You're getting so big!" He turns toward my voice and flashes a look at me that's filled with total apathy and confusion. It's as if he's being forced to talk to a total stranger.

Octavian turns back toward Lizzy and buries his head in her chest again.

"_Mama_," he says clear as day. My jaw drops as I hear his beautiful voice.

"He's talking now?" I say still in shock.

"Yeah," Lizzy says nodding her head. "For about a week now…"

"That's amazing," I say secretly devastated that I was not present for my son's first words.

"Can you say something for daddy?" Lizzy says trying to get Octavian to cooperate. "C'mon say something for daddy." Octavian remains silent, rubbing his sleepy eyes with his tiny hands. "Aw, c'mon say something for daddy. How about '_dada_.' Can you say '_dada_?" Octavian just continues to be fussy.

"It's ok," I say trying to reassure her. "I know he's tired."

Suddenly, in the doorway behind them, the silhouette of Finnick appears carrying a fishing net on his back. He drops it down on the floor and the noise gets Octavian's attention. As soon as he sees Finnick, Octavian reaches out to him with his stubby arms and shouts:

"_Dada_!"

I feel as if someone stabbed me through the heart with a spear. I drop down in my seat, bury my face in my hands, and start to sob uncontrollably as I realize a horrible truth:

_"My son doesn't know me anymore…"_

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" Lizzy says trying to calm me down.

"No, it's fine," I say trying to wipe the tears out of my eyes. "I understand," I say trying to make her feel better.

"Finnick, come and take him please," Lizzy says desperately. He dashes over and Octavian practically climbs into his arms. Finnick looks at me with mix of sympathy and horrible guilt.

"How are you doing, Ares?" He asks very awkwardly.

"Good, Finnick," I say as tears continue to roll down my face. "Thank you, from the bottom of my heart for taking such good care of my family."

"No," he says looking back through the screen at me. "Thank you for what you're doing over there. I saw the report on the raid. That was incredible."

"It's my job," I say not knowing what else to.

"You stay safe and come home soon. They'll be here when you get back."

"You got it," I say not entirely believing him now.

"I'm gonna take him outside now," he says turning down to Lizzy. "Give you two a chance to talk."

"Ok…" Lizzy says still crying and shaking her head. Finnick raises Octavian's little hand and makes him gently wave goodbye to me.

"Say goodbye to your daddy, Little Man." Octavian obeys but still has no emotion in his face.

"Bye, Little Man," I say waving back. "I love you so much." Then Finnick turns away and my son disappears.

"I'm so sorry," Lizzy says now bawling uncontrollably.

"It's ok!" I say as my tears now return.

"_It's just so hard, Ares!_ It's so hard for you to be gone!"

"I know, I know…"

"_No you don't!_" Lizzy says losing control. "Do you know what it's like to tuck your son into bed every night not sure where his father is, or even if his father is dead or alive? To have to think about what it will be like to raise our child alone if the man you love more than anything else in the world is blown to pieces?"

I have no idea how to respond to her. Finally, just shaking my head back and forth, I whisper:

"_I love you_…and I'm sorry for what I am."

"No," Lizzy says back to me, regaining control of herself. "I wouldn't love you if you were somebody different. You're strong, courageous, loyal, and amazing!" Without thinking, I lean forward and press my lips against the screen. Lizzy leans forward on her side and does the same. For a few brief moments, we both imagine ourselves in each other's arms. I close my eyes and try to remember what this felt like on the platform at the train station, but no matter how hard I try, the same feeling of warmth and safety escapes me. Instead, all I feel is _lost._

After a sleepless night, I stumble into Tower Control along with Tiller and Doc. Ratchet follows closely behind trying to help Hatchet down the stairs on her crutches, but she seems to have no problems maneuvering at all.

"You seem to be doing a lot better, Lassie," Angus says with a smile as she hobbles up to the table and plops down in the chair next to me.

"Feel a lot better too. That bitter beer is amazing stuff."

"Aye, tis a great and ancient medicine," Angus says with a laugh. Ratchet walks up behind her and takes the crutches.

"Thanks, Babe. _Love you_," she quietly whispers to him with a smile. He grins back and walks around the other side of the table to join the other sergeants. I just turn to Hatchet and stare with a totally amazed look on my face. "We had a talk," she says bashfully. "_A good one…_"

"Good," I say nodding with approval. "_Very good_." We both start to chuckle.

"Sir," Maggie calls out from her work station to Angus. "We're receiving a broadcast on the main TEC announcement channel." He turns serious and orders her to put it up on the big screen.

The great seal of the Trans-European Commonwealth appears accompanied by dirge-like music. An announcer's voice is heard:

_"On this national day of mourning, we now take you live to the Man Among Men, Supreme Lawgiver Grosfrere at the Germania Memorial Stadium…" _

The image cuts to Grosfrere, standing on a huge stage behind a massive podium with a television screen large enough to blot out the entire sky towering over his head. In front of him, dozens of rows of coffins have been arranged with surgical precision. Each one is draped with the TEC flag and adorned with a bouquet of white roses. The seats of the stadium are filled to capacity with mourners, each crying their eyes out in an amazing display of emotion. Again, I cannot tell whether it is purely fabricated, or these poor brain-washed people really are this distraught.

"My fellow citizens," Grosfrere begins. His voice booms throughout the arena. "Our enemy is vicious and cruel." On the screen behind him, images of destroyed homes and scorched earth begin to play. Black bodies, contorted into horrible positions, lie unburied in the streets.

"_My God_," Hatchet says covering her face with her hands.

"Those _sick_ bastards," Tiller says slamming his fist down on the table. I remain silent, but also feel their disgust. I instantly recognize the images on the screen as the small village we encountered next to the factory complex.

"Less than a week ago," Grosfrere continues, "the imperialist UDP war criminals launched an unprovoked attack on Francia, completely destroying a peaceful valley and factory complex full of loyal TEC citizens working hard to continue our valiant war effort against the forces of evil. As you can see by the bodies of the fallen in front of you, there were no survivors."

"The TECs destroyed a whole freaking valley and then blame us! Why?" Ratchet says angrily.

"Because," I say staring down at the table, "Those people in that village saw Grosfrere's defeat. Alive, they were a liability to him, but now as corpses, they're martyrs to his cause. He doesn't care about innocent people, and he'll kill anybody who's a threat to him…"

"The imperialists felt that by striking at Francia, my home, that I would back down in fear," Grosfrere speaks into his microphone with the silver tongue of a serpent, "but I assure all of you, that my will has never been stronger!" The stadium erupts in wild cheers and shouts of adoration. "As we say goodbye to our brave and honored fallen that lie here before us, I hereby announce that our response will be decisive and absolute."

"What is he talking about?" Doc says nervously.

"I don't know, but I don't like it…" I respond trailing off.

"The Trans-European Commonwealth is a peaceful nation," Grosfrere continues. "I say to the thousands here, and the millions watching this broadcast around the TEC, we abhor resorting to violence, but sometimes the crimes of others are so great that justice _demands_ it. I now decree as Supreme Lawgiver, that the United Districts of Panem, a chaotic and decadent democracy where nepotism and oligarchy result in this kind of perversion," he says pointing toward the field of coffins, "WILL BE DESTROYED!" The stadium erupts again in cheers. All of us in Tower Control jump to our feet in shock and horror. "Thanks to the sacrifice of our loyal comrade, Rikard Ohm, who also gave his life for the TEC in this senseless attack, we are now in possession of Panem's most sinister weapon! In our attempt to bring order and justice to this world, may all our enemies drown under toxic blue clouds of their own disgusting creation!" Grosfrere raises his hands over his head in the victory symbol. "UNUS EUROPA!"

The tens of thousands of spectators leap to their feet, and also make the sign of victory over their heads. They shout back in one massive cry, "SUB UNUS RECTOR!" The booming choral tones of the TEC national anthem begin to play through the speakers of the stadium. Everyone begins singing in one, united voice. Grosfrere keeps his hands in the symbol of victory and stares up into the sky.

Suddenly, a new image appears on the screen behind him. On an unknown TEC military base, fourteen massive steel doors open in the ground, revealing their deadly payload. The camera is sure to zoom in close so that everyone can see the missiles, ready for flight and pointed for the sky.

_"No…this isn't real! This can't be happening,"_ I think as my mind races through a thousand thoughts of Panem. Lizzy, Octavian, Finnick, Katniss, Peeta, Driva, Amelia, all my loved ones still back at home and now threatened with annihilation.

As the TEC anthem reaches the key crescendo, jets of flame erupt from the ground and the missiles launch from the silos and toward orbit. The TEC cameras track their flight on the massive stadium screen towards the sky as the silhouette of Grosfrere stands straight and tall for his entire nation to see. Booming alarms begin echoing through Tower Control.

"Our radar independently confirms the launch," Maggie says staring at her screen. "Fourteen separate missiles each headed on a different orbital trajectory."

"Fourteen missiles?" Hatchet says.

"Thirteen Districts and the Capitol," I say in horror. "They're gonna blanket the entire UDP under a cloud of Shiver."

"And then march right in to take over unopposed when the gas dissipates," Tiller says staring at the screen in disbelief.

"Our estimates put impact in Panem in approximately eighteen minutes," Maggie shouts.

"Does our defense shield have a shot at them?" Angus says desperately.

"Negative," Maggie says. "Their trajectories are too steep and the missiles are already leaving the atmosphere. There's nothing we can do…"

I collapse back in my chair as a single thought slams its way into my consciousness.

_"Our world is about to end."_

END OF BOOK TWO


End file.
